


Cafecitos and Sakuras

by thatonefangirl0713



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Florista AU (Florist x Barista), Freeform, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Japanese Shiro (Voltron), LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Lance (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rated Explicit for later chapters, Shiro is a florist, Slow Burn, lance is a barista
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-03-01 19:24:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13301592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonefangirl0713/pseuds/thatonefangirl0713
Summary: Lance was just a boy from Cuba, trying to make it on his own, living his dream of owning his own cafe where people could come and relax with family and friends. His life was exhausting, but he loved it. And in his opinion, pretty damn near perfect.Until the new florist moved in next door.





	1. Yirgachaffe and Snapdragons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaspurrlock (stilesstilerstyle)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilesstilerstyle/gifts).



> So, this fic all began as the brain child of @Jaspurrlock and their gorgeous depiction of a Shlance Florista AU. This is my gift to them for the beauty that they have created! This was originally going to be a one shot, but as I started writing, it decided that it was going to turn into a multi-chaptered fic. I hope they as well as you, the readers of this fic, enjoy the ride I have planned for these characters.
> 
> Reference image from Jaspurrlock: http://jaspurrlock.tumblr.com/image/168721566232

“Now, since it is nearing the end of July, we are just hitting the end of the Ethiopian harvest. So, I would suggest we go with Ethiopia Natural Yirgacheffe for our next flavor of the month. It’s a lighter roast which is going to be perfect for these warmer months and it is dry roasted, so it will have a more… Lance, are you listening to me?”

Lance jolted out of his daydream, his jaw slipping from its support post in his palm as Pidge’s petite palm connected with the back of his head.

“Hey, unnecessary Pidge!” Lance grunted as he rubbed at the back of his head.

“You were staring off into space when you should have been focusing on what the next flavor of the month is going to be. I don’t sit in my lab half the week researching new bean types, roasting mechanisms and procedures, and flavor profiles so that you can drool over the new neighbor like Pavlov’s dog.” Pidge huffed as they gently pushed the bridge of their glasses up further on their nose.

Lance spun in his swivel chair so fast he almost flew out of it. “I am NOT a dog!”

“Oh right, hang on.” Pidge proceeded to shuffle through the multitude of papers that still needed to go up on the local businesses board. Everything from fliers for rock cover band performances, to business cards of housewives selling in home products like food container systems and products to spice up people’s love lives, to fliers with tear-off slips for a young high schooler’s pet sitting business.

Lance loved looking at all the business that would soon litter his walls. The walls he had spent so many years of late nights and multiple part-time jobs to save up enough money to buy. The walls he had dreamed that one day he would be able to call his.

_Altea_ had been his dream since he was a child growing up on the streets of Varadero, Cuba. He would watch his mother make his father a fresh _desayuno_ every morning. He could still smell the yeasty, butteriness of the toastadas. Taste the tangy freshness of the seasonal fruits his mother lovingly cut by hand. And the nostalgic, hominess of the café con leche. The way his father would watch his mother as she made food for their small family and the look of joy that would spread across her face as he would complement her on the perfect cup of coffee day after day was what had originally sparked the idea of a café for him. A place for people to go and get a good meal snack and being surrounded by friends or family.

All topped off with the perfect cup of coffee.

_Thwump!_ Lance was once again pulled out of his reprieve as a soft cylinder landed across his nose.

“Pidge! What the…,”

“Bad dog!” Lance pulled his hands off his tender nose and started incredulously at Pidge as they held a rolled-up newspaper aloft, the potential for a second smack hanging in the air. Pidge’s head held high, nose almost turned up completely in haughty superiority.

Lance gaped at Pidge. His eyes blown wide and his mouth flapped open and closed like a fish out of water. His brain couldn’t form the words to express how utterly ridiculous the situation was.

He wasn’t sure who started it, but one escaped giggle lead to a muffled chuckle which snowballed until the both were letting out deep, tear inducing peals of belly deep laugher. Lance watched as Pidge gripped the side of the counter to keep their balance, his own hand occupied with holding his sides together as stitches began to form and twinge his torso.

It was quite a few minutes before both had calmed down enough to catch their breath and begin to form coherent sentences.

“Wha…what was that… all about?”

“It was obvious… you dolt. I was trying to get work done, and…and your inner “whore-hound” was sitting up and taking notice of the new florist across the street.” Pidge stated matter-of-factly as they removed their glasses and took out a small swatch of cleaning cloth from their back pocket.

_Oh, right. Him._

Lance spun slightly in his chair to look out the front floor-to-ceiling windows, glancing around the lightly frosted _Altea_ scrawled backwards across the main panel, as he caught sight of a flash of snow white and night black.

The store front on the opposite side of the street had been in the process of being renovated for months and it finally looked like someone was moving in. All weekend he had caught glimpses of different type of flowers, potted plants, and large refrigerators being moved inside. When he had gotten off work, he had made a point to stop by the windows and take a peek inside to confirm his suspicions that, yes, it was indeed a flower shop.

But he had never seen _him_ in all the months of prep work for the shop.

The figure in question was currently hauling a twin set of large boxes under each arm labeled FloralEarth in big blue and green block lettering with Snapdragons delicately calligraphed out beneath the brand. The boxes must have been awkward based on their length and shape. However, judging by the way the man’s biceps and forearms curled around the boxes with ease under his light windbreaker jacket, Lance could only guess he had grossly misjudged the heft of the boxes or that the man had more going on under that white and black windbreaker than met the eyes.

“Wait,” Lance questioned as he turned back to Pidge, “how do you know he’s the florist and not part of the moving company?”

“In all the time you’ve been staring, did you not read his jacket?” Pidge paused in their messy attempt to collect up all the papers to take back to the lab later that day after their shift ended to drag the tip of their index finger across the top of their chest, where a logo should be.

Lance squinted out the windows, but couldn’t make out any sort of lettering on the man’s jacket. He popped out of his chair with a squeak and peered through the window, cupping his hands around his eyes to block out the early morning rays of sun.

“A…aowie…han… hand…hana? What on earth does that mean?” Lance asked as he glanced at the awning on the store front to check that, indeed it did have the same name printed across it.

“Let’s ask him shall we? SHIRO!” Lance flinched at the increase in volume next to his ear before attempting to tackle and pull Pidge away from the now open door. This proved impossible as they had stepped through the doorway, waving their arms about to try and get the man’s attention.

Shiro, as he must be known by the way he turned his head at the shout, proceeded to set the boxes he was carrying down and began to jog across the street over to them.

Lance could feel his heart in his throat. _Oh my god, oh my god!_ The closer he got, the easier it was to see that his windbreaker was in fact hiding something underneath it’s thin layers. Shiro’s broad shoulders and arms rolled opposite the direction of his hips as he crossed the small street. His thighs almost filling out the loose-fitting track sweatpants and his tight hips visible as the bottom hem of his jacket rode up slightly on the push off from the ground.

That all paled in comparison to the smile he wore once he got to their side of the street. It was gentle, and reserved, the kind of smile you put on for acquaintances or for pushy family members who won’t stop pestering you about when you’re going to get married or how foolish it would be to open yet another coffee shop in the day and age when it is already saturated with Starbucks and other big-name shops.

But what made this man’s smile unique, was the potential it had to become a full-fledged smile, one that reached past the edges of his mouth, past his eyes, and radiated out past the stars. His face bore the slight marks around his mouth and eyes that bespoke of a lifetime of laughter and happiness. But, like the bright pink scar across the bridge of his nose and along both cheeks in the midst of flawless skin, or the shock of white hair on his forehead in the midst of a sea of jet black, something had happened to that smile to send it into hiding.

_I’m gonna find it!_

“Wait, how do you know his name?” Lance whispered down to Pidge as “Shiro” hit the edge of their curb.

“Unlike you, I sometimes am friendly with our neighbors, especially if I see them as we are closing up the shop and they happen to be outside.” Pidge remarked under their breath. “Hey Shiro, how’s the move going?” Pidge questioned as they held the door wide to invite the man in.

This “Shiro” character was barely taller than he was, _maybe an inch, maybe not even,_ but he still had a larger presence than Lance did. He may not have been much taller than Lance, but he definitely was wider, and judging from his job across the street and his previous package manipulation techniques, it was all going to be muscle under that thin polyester cage.

“It’s going as well as it can, thanks for asking. One of the fridges won’t be here until tomorrow and I have three boxes of gladiola blooms that need to be stored in it or they’re going to wilt like tamago kage gohan!”

That voice! Lance felt his knees twitch as they attempted to buckle and his belly fluttered at the deep, baritone notes that flowed out of the man’s throat and past his lips. Could this man get any more perfect? Deep voice, a presumably perfect body, works next door, Lance looked down to the man’s left hand and didn’t notice a ring or a tan line that indicated one. _Oh, please!_

“Sorry, tama go…what?” Pidge twerked their head to the side like a confused puppy.

“Oh, sorry. It a typical breakfast in Japan made up of runny eggs over rice. My mom made it almost every day when I was growing up.” Shiro pushed a hand through his hair to lift it off his forehead before glancing in Lance’s direction.

_Oh God, oh God! Act normal, stop fantasizing about him. Oh, his eyes are pretty… STOP IT!_

“Sorry, where are my manners, Shiro, this is my co-worker, and the owner of _Altea,_ Lance McClain.” Pidge took the crook of his arm and pulled his slightly forward. “Lance, this is,”

“It’s okay Pidge, I got this.” He gently placed his hand on Pidge’s shoulder and turned to face Lance. “Hi, I’m Takashi Shirogane, but most people call me Shiro, I’m the owner of Aoi Hana, the Blue Flower.”

_Words, you fool! Speak them!_ Lance held out his right hand in Shiro’s direction.

“HI!” Lance practically screamed into the air space between them, his voice cracking slightly on the finishing syllable. He hastily cleared his throat. _Idiot! Volume! Down!_ “Sorry,” he pretended to cough into his opposite hand, “been fighting one of those notorious summer colds, you know.”

He could see Pidge gently place their face between their palms behind Shiro’s back.

_Shut up, I know!_

Lance’s hand was still dangling in midair, untouched. _Shit, I blamed this on a cold and now he doesn’t want to get infected._

“Oh, sorry, you probably don’t want to get my germs.” Lance Hastily pulled his hand back to his side and glanced down at the floor. “I’ll just go wash my hands real quick,” Before Lance could move from his spot, he felt something hold him back and when he looked down he saw a broad palm encompassing not only his wrist, but most of his palm and up onto his arm.

_Hands that big should be…STOP!_ He mentally slapped himself.

“No please, It’s my fault.” Lance jerked his head up to see that Shiro had inched closer to him in the short time he had his head down. “Most people aren’t aware of my… condition and so I usually inform them beforehand just in case.”

_Condition?_ What on earth did that mean? Did Shiro have some sort of flesh eating virus that could easily transfer to him through mere touch? Some weird body anomaly that sent people running in fear? A tail? A horn? A fucking sixth toe? Whatever it was, Lance didn’t care, so long as Shiro never took his warm hand off his wrist, he would gladly face any sort of “condition” Shiro had.

All too soon, though, Shiro dropped his arm, _boo!,_ and took a step back. Lance shuffled his feet and picked at the cuticles of his thumb.

“You see,” Shiro began, “I was in an accident a long time ago and lost my right arm. When you held out yours I didn’t just want to grab it with my prosthetic arm and make you uncomfortable.” Shiro proceeded to hold up his right hand, a sleek mechanical creation of black and white metal. As Shiro tweaked his fingers, Lance could see the metal plates and gears shifting almost seamlessly. This was no ordinary prosthetic, this was highly advanced technology.

“Whoa! That is so cool!” Lance lunged forward and pulled the cuff of Shiro’s sleeve down onto his forearm so he could get a better look. “Is it like a Go-Go Gadget arm that can turn into other stuff too? How far up does it go?”

As Lance attempted to see more of the arm, he realized that he had pushed the cuff of Shiro’s windbreaker up past his elbow and he was mere inches from the lustrous metal. He glanced up and took in the shocked expression on Shiro’s face before he felt his own explode and take on the appearance of a lobster, even beneath his tanned, Cuban skin.

“Oh… oh my God!” Lance gasped as he vaulted back from the man. “I… I’m so sorry Shiro, I don’t know why I did that. I mean, I’ve seen prosthetics before but never once as advanced as yours and I think I just got excited and,” He hung his head in his hands, “I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me!”

Lance wanted to crawl into a hole in the ground and have it swallow him up for good. His heart fluttered in his chest as his nerves began to get the best of him, his palms went full on sauna mode and, if this wasn’t real life, there would be smoke billowing out of his ears in his embarrassment.

_Way to go lover boy! The first hot, possibly eligible man you come across in god knows how long and you ruin it by trying to cop a feel of a non-flesh and blood body part! He’s never going to forgive me. He’s never going to…_

Lance’s inner monologue was cut short at the sound of deep, rumbling laughter. Lance gingerly removed his hands from his face and stared in awe at the utter ray of sunshine in his lobby. Shiro’s head was thrown back, his arms clutching his sides as he was all but rolling on the floor laughing.

“S-S-Sorry! Ahhaha, but,” Shiro gulped down deep breathes to try and form coherent sentences, “nobody has ever reacted like that.” He swiped his non-tech hand under his eyes, small streaks of moisture getting swiped up in their wake. “Usually, I get the typical “oh, it doesn’t bother me, but I’m still going to look on you with pity because you poor thing you don’t have an arm” routine.” He heavily placed his hand on Lance’s shoulder. “You don’t know how refreshing you are!”

Lance stood there, dumbstruck, watching this perfectly imperfect man steal more of his heart than he already had. The weight of his hand grounding him to the spot so as to keep him from floating off into space. Lance giggled as Shiro tried to come down completely from his laughing high, his smile burning the edges of his cheeks as they hadn’t yet fully recovered from his and Pidge’s laugh attack only moments prior.

“S-still I really am sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” Lance chuckled as Shiro stepped back out of Lance’s personal space.

“No, really that it isn’t neces-”

“I’ve got it! Stay right there!” Lance bolted for the kitchen, leaving Pidge and Shiro standing in his foyer.

He scrambled hastily, his fingers fumbling with the espresso pot and coffee tin, attempting to measure out the correct amount of ingredients before he threw the pot on the stove. While he waited for the coffee to brew, he set up a glass jar with a few tablespoons of sugar so that he could make the espuma once the coffee began to brew over the top of the pot.

He quickly buttered some toastadas and tossed them into the toaster oven, then grabbed out a bowl of fresh fruit he had cut up that morning. The bright oranges of the cantaloupe, the fleshy pink of the watermelon, and the deep red, lusciousness of the strawberries all melding together to create the perfect July fruit salad.

As the coffee began to bubble out the top of the percolator, it filled the kitchen with the heady aroma of the rich Bustelo in the pot. Lance quickly poured out a small amount into the sugar in the cup and placed the pot back on the stove to finish brewing. He grabbed a spoon and quickly frothed up the coffee and sugar mixture until a nice foam was formed.

He flicked the stove off and gripped the warm plastic handle and slowly poured the brewed coffee into the glass container with the espuma until it had completely mixed. He gingerly scooped out the foam from the top into three waiting demitasse cups and placed them along with the glass of coffee and the rest of the breakfast components onto a waiting tray and carried it out into the dining area.

He scanned the still empty area (most of his early bird customers not showing up until around seven anyway) and quickly found the two at a corner table. As he drew closer, he saw Pidge was now also inspecting Shiro’s tech arm, which really shouldn’t peeve him, but it did all the same.

“So Shiro, how did you get your hands on such advanced tech for being an ex-soldier?” Pidge inquired as they upturned his arm, bending it at the elbow until it was straight out. Lance, slowly set the tray down and portioned out the cups and breakfast accoutrements.

“Well, my best friend Hunk is a genetic engineer for my flower shop, he creates all different types of new breeds of flowers that I can give to my customers that no other shops are able to sell.  Like this one,” Shiro reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper with a blue sunflower printed onto being held up into the camera lens. “This is a new breed of sunflower that exhibits a blue petal instead of the typical yellow. We just haven’t come up with a name for it yet.”

Lance pulled out his chair and plopped down into it, shuffling forward until he was within reaching range of all the components. He placed a set of silverware and plates at each person’s spot and slowly poured out Shiro’s coffee, then Pidge’s, and finished with his own.

“There you go, a traditional _desayuno_ with fruit, tostadas, and _Cafecito_. _Buen provecho!_ ” Lance stated proudly as he pointed out each component and then signaled for them to dig in. It wasn’t pretty or plated like a professional, the toast had burn spots, and the coffee spilled a little over the sides of the cup onto the saucers, but everything was fresh, as local as possible and had more love put into that one could measure with a measuring cup.

He watched as Pidge dug into the meal, a look of warmth spreading across their face as they drank the _Cafecito_ down, sip by sip. Pidge always made the same face whenever he made them something. No matter how much Pidge complained about his lack of focus and his propensity to jump headfirst into new ventures without considering all the possibilities, they always had his back. Always there to give him support when he wanted it, and a swift kick in the ass when he needed it.

The sister he had always wanted, and maybe one day would have had, if fate had been kinder.

“So, your arm…?” Pidge prompted, shoving a plump strawberry into their mouth.

“Right, right, sorry. So yeah, Hunk creates new flowers for the shop but in high school he was a huge techie, always into tinkering and creating new pieces of tech. He even minored in it in college. He was the one who created my arm for me.” Shiro picked up his cup, sniffed at it quietly and slowly brought the steaming cup to his lips.

“ _Mmmmm,_ that’s delicious.” Shiro mumbled, almost to himself, as he replaced the cup in its saucer, setting both down gingerly. _You’re delicious._ “It’s really rich, and full flavored, and sweet. A perfect pick me up during the move.”

_Oh no._

“Um, Shiro…” Lance gestured to the edge of his own upper lip with the tip of his finger, “you’ve got a little…” Shiro went cross eyed as he tried to look down his nose at his mouth, pursing his lips out.

“Oh, I see. How embarrassing.” He chuckled. _Please let me get it, please let me get it, please let me get it!_

Shiro swiped his thumb across his thin upper lip, removing the remnants of the espuma that clung to it before poking out the tip of his pink tongue and lapping it off said digit.

_Oh God, WHY?!_ Lance felt a deep flutter in his belly as his mind internally exploded at the implications of where that tongue could also be put to good use.

“Lance, that was really fantastic. But, I really need to get back to unpacking. How much do I owe you?” Shiro shifted in his seat to reach into his back pocket, presumably to take out his wallet. Lance lunged forward and grabbed onto his arm.

“No, please, no charge. Think of it as a welcome to the neighborhood. Please, I really want to do this for you.” Lance pleaded, his eyes as big as saucers, his fingertips gripping at the hard metal under his palms.

“I couldn’t Lance, that wouldn’t be right.” Shiro fidgeted, his eyes darting to the side.

“Seriously, you would be doing me a favor. That coffee blend was a new mix that I had been dying to try out and get someone’s opinion on and you really helped me out. Seriously, it’s no big deal.” He stared up at the man and plastered a wide smile across his lips to show his sincerity. 

“Well… if you’re sure…” Shiro shifted back to his original seated position, “Then, thank you very much Lance. It really made me feel welcome.” Lance melted and felt his face warm at the praise.

“Perfect, now let’s get you back to those blooms shall we!” Lance prompted as he began to place all the dishes back onto the tray.

Shiro scrambled out of the side of the booth as a large, teddy bear sized with shaggy brown hair and the aura of an angel walked into the shop.

“Shiro, where do you want the boxes of gladiolas since that fridge isn’t here?” The man inquired as he hefted the boxes in his arms.

“I’m not sure Hunk, I haven’t thought of anything yet.” Shiro walked over to, who Lance assumed was “Hunk”, and rubbed his chin in contemplation.

“I’ve got an idea,” Lance prompted from behind the counter, “I have some space left in our walk-in, if the conditions are right, you could store them here until your fridge comes in.” Lance glanced around to get confirmation from Pidge, but he couldn’t grab their attention as their whole focus was on the newcomer.

“No Lance, really you already fed me, for free I might add, asking that would be too much. We’ll figure something out.” Shiro tried hustling Hunk to the door.

“No, no really.” Lance vaulted over the counter to stop them. “Take it as an apology for groping your arm earlier.” He pleaded as he tried to block their escape.

“Grope? What happened while I was unloading boxes of flowers. And you got food too?!” Hunk lamented.

“Yeah, Lance here was fascinated with the tech you designed for my arm and got a bit… excited about it.” Shiro rubbed the back of his head at the admission. “And don’t worry, we can come back for breakfast tomorrow, and this time we’re paying. No excuses!” He pointed at Lance.

“Okay, okay, tomorrow you can pay me. But today, let me help you. Pidge, go see how much space we have in the walk-in…. Pidge? Earth to Pidge?” Lance walked over to the small human and waved his hand in front of their face, snapping quickly.

“Huh, oh, sorry. Fridge, what?” Pidge stumbled over their words as they fiddled with their fingernails and shifted their shoes over one another. Lance looked to where Pidge kept glancing and realized they was staring at Hunk.

_Hello blackmail._

“Hunk was it?” Lance asked in the behemoth’s general direction.

“Yes, that’s right.” The main smiled.

“How rude of me not to introduce us. My name’s Lance, I own _Altea._ And Shiro tells me that you are a genetic engineer?” He stepped forward and held out his hand towards Hunk.

“Yeah, I help engineer some of the specialty flowers that only can be found in Shiro’s shop. But I also like to work with computers and machines, thus his arm. It’s got a lot of really cool features! Like right now I’m working on an interface that will allow him to sense different temperatures and textures even through the prosthetic!” Hunk positively beamed with pride as he discussed his current work.

“How are you getting that to work? Are there pseudo-mechanoreceptors impregnated into the metal on the fingertips?” All three men turned to the bold voice that piped up from behind Lance.

“Yeah actually, but I haven’t been able to get the mechano-neurons to link up to them properly. I’m Hunk by the way, and you are…?”

“Katie Holt, but please call me Pidge. Nice to meet you.” Pidge stepped forward, finally gaining back their quintessential bravado and shook the man’s hand firmly. “You know, I tinker with computers myself, if you’d like I could take a look and offer some thoughts, if that’s not to forward?”

“No, I would love to get some help. I’ve been stuck on this issue for a few months now and it has been keeping me up at night. That would be a really big help!” Hunk smiled so wide that his face almost split in two and Lance watched Pidge take a small step back and the edges of their ears flare bright red.

“Well, while you guys do that, let’s get your gladiola’s set up in our walk-in.” Lance prompted as he took one of the boxes from Hunk.

“Lance, thanks again, I would have really been up a creek if you hadn’t been here. I don’t know how to repay you.” Shiro and Lance shuffled the long boxes into _Altea’s_ walk-in fridge, clearing boxes of fresh veggies from one shelf to make room.

“Honestly, Shiro, I’m happy to do it. I’m not looking for any sort of repayment.” Lance smiled at Shiro, their breaths forming small dragon-breath clouds in front of their mouths as they panted lightly from the exertion of moving all the boxes in the fridge.

“I’ll think of something.” Shiro stood and dusted off his thighs and held out his metal hand to help Lance off the floor.

“Heh, I’ll look forward to whatever you come up with.” Lance said with finality as they turned to leave the fridge. _Easy boy, keep it together._

“Oh Lance, I meant to ask you, is that a lion tattoo on your right calf?” Shiro asked as they reached the dining area, Pidge and Hunk crowded around Pidge’s laptop at the counter discussing mechanical blueprints.

“Yeah, actually. Blue is my favorite color and I’ve always identified with the lion. You know, strength and courage.” Lance spun around and propped his leg up on a chair, pulling up the hem of his cargo shorts so Shiro could see better. “If I was every feeling down on myself, I could always look down and it would give me the small boost I needed to believe in myself again.” He lovingly ran his hand over the new style tattoo, with its bold colors and geometric lines, faded slightly from the years on age and sun exposure, but he still thought it was beautiful nonetheless.

Lace looked back at Shiro and was surprised to find the man staring intently at him. He hastily pulled his leg off the chair and rolled the hem back down.

“So, yeah. That’s Blue.” He smiled sheepishly. “Do you have any ink?”

“Uh… Yeah actually I do.” Shiro reached for the zipper on the front of his jacket, hesitating slightly before tugging it down to the middle of his chest.

_Breathe. He’s just showing you his ink, it means noth…_

Lance had been right. The thumb sized dip between Shiro’s collarbones was made all the more prominent by the thick cords of muscle along the sides of his neck and the plushness of his pecs. The low, crew-cut grey tank top he had on under the track suit, at least from what he could see, was suctioned to his body like a second skin. The barest smattering of black chest hair poked out over the edge of the neck hole in his shirt.

What Lance hadn’t been expecting was all the scars. He knew about the one across Shiro’s nose because, hello, it was on his nose. And he had assumed that there would be scarring along the seam of his upper arm where his bicep met the tech of his prosthetic. He hadn’t been expecting his chest to be covered in deep, gouging scars. Some bright pink and in various stages of healing, some mostly faded. What had Shiro done before becoming a florist?

“Here, on my chest.” Shiro said as he pulled at the side of his tank top until almost the entirety of his left pec popped out of the neck hole. Normally, Lance would have positively drooled at the sight in front of him. A nice, thick, mostly bare chest with a dusky nipple just barely visible over the seam of Shiro’s tank, just begging to be licked and sucked on. But this day, he didn’t even notice that.

He was more intrigued with the dark, swirling lines intersected on top of one another forming what looked like a ferocious looking feline in Shiro’s skin. The lips of the animal were pulled back of long, dagger like canines and its face was scrunched up into a look so menacing, Lance swore he could hear it growl in his bones. However, the small, pink flowers around the outskirts gave it a softer edge than at original glance.

“Wow, it’s gorgeous.” Lance whispered as he inched closer to inspect the tattoo’s intricacies. “The linework is so smooth, and the shading so crisp. I love the flowers along the outline. What is this? Where did you get it done?”

“My sister did it for me. It’s a komainu, one of a pair that guard shrines from evil spirits. The flowers are Japanese sakura flowers, they’re my favorite.” Lance’s eyes flicked up to Shiro’s face, which he realized was only inches from his own. “What’s a komainu?” Lance asked as he licked his lips.

“A lion.” Shiro responded, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lance coughed into his hand and stepped away from the wall of muscle in front of him and busied himself with running the dishtowel he kept in his apron over the top of one of the already clean tables.

“Well, she did an amazing job.” Lance heard rustling and the tell-tale _vrrrp_ of a zipper closing as Shiro shrugged back into his jacket. The bell above the door chimed and Lance glanced up to greet his first real customer of the day. “Hi, welcome to _Altea_ , how can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a Mr. Shirogane? We finished unloading the truck and we need him to sign off on some forms.” The stout man replied gruffly.

“That would be me, I’ll be right there!” Shiro hurried over to where Hunk and Pidge were seated and proceeded to haul the large man out the door with him. “Thanks again Lance!” Shiro called over his shoulder.

Lance waved boldly at the two men as they crossed the street once again and entered the small shop, before glancing down at Pidge.

“We’re fucked.” Pidge stated blatantly.

“So hard.” Was all Lance could reply, because Pidge’s statement wasn’t wrong in the slightest.


	2. Mochas and Galdioli

“And remember, the Mayan Mocha is like a normal mocha, but it uses the flavor of the month’s coffee in espresso form with a teaspoon of Mayan Mix which has the Mexican chocolate shavings, chili flakes, and cinnamon already in it.” Lance finished up writing the recipe on a light pink sticky note and taping it to the counter in front of the airtight box labeled MAYAN MIX. “Does that make sense Matt?”

“Yeah, I think so. Put me in front of a computer and I’m your guy, but trying to remember all these recipes and how each of them can change ever so slightly depending on what the customer wants? It is a little daunting.” The larger, male version of Pidge shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry, I seem to be kinda useless right now.”

“Nah Matt, it’s all good. You’ll get there, I believe in you.” Lance gripped Matt’s shoulder tightly to drive his point home. Matt had just been relieved of active duty via medical discharge a few months prior. Being a parachute will mess up your back real quick and Matt’s had been no exception.

Matt had come home and spent the first month in the hospital, having tests and diagnostics run on him to see what could be done to help his condition. In the end though, the doctors had concluded that medicine had not advanced far enough yet to truly be able to help Matt recover to what he used to be before he joined the army.

Over the next few months, Matt had looked high and low for a job that would work with his back injury, which had left him with a highly unstable schedule. Some days Matt felt great and could work a full day with no problems, but other days he could hardly get out of bed the pain was so intense. Pidge had eventually come to him and told Lance about the issues Matt was having with finding a job. Without a second thought, Lance called Matt in and offered him a job on the spot.

_Altea_ had been gaining a steady customer base so they could use the extra help, but it wasn’t so busy yet that they needed someone with a permanent, reliable schedule. And as much as Matt devalued himself and his ability to perform the job, he was learning rather quickly, and he had only been there for a week so far. It was understandable that he couldn’t remember all the different menu ingredients, drink recipes, and which items did or did not have gluten in them.

“Thanks Lance.” Matt’s hand came up and squeezed Lance’s back before dropping it back down to his side. “Now, can you show me one more time what all comes in a Cubano sandwich?”

“Sure Matt,” he chuckled, “so you start with Cuban bread and you slice it on a slant and then you layer it with…”

Lance’s lesson was cut short as the bell above the door twinkled, signaling a customer had come into the shop. Lance flew around the counter to greet the customer and get them a table if they wanted to sit a while.

“Welcome to _Altea,_ how can I… oh, hi Shiro! Whaa!” Lance attempted to scramble to a stop, almost face planting into the bouquet of flowers in Shiro’s arms before losing his balance in the end.

“Whoa!” Shiro held the bouquet aloft as Lance stumbled into his arms, his face landing flush against Shiro’s chest, one of Shiro’s arms wrapping around his back to steady him. _His hard, ripped, delectable chest. I’m never washing my face again! "_ Careful there, Lance. You okay?"

Lance braced his hands against Shiro’s chest _, don’t squeeze, don’t squeeze,_ and pushed himself back until he was an acceptable distance away from Shiro.

“Yeah, no worries! What, uh, what are you doing here? Not, that you aren’t welcome, you’re always welcome here. No matter the time of day, you know, day or night, you can come over if you need a pick me up, or for a chat, or even just to unwind, come on over!” Lance began to chuckle uncontrollably and tipped his head down to stare at his feet.

“Lance, it’s really okay. Are you okay, you didn’t hit your head, did you? You seem to be talking a lot.” Shiro reached out to tilt his head down and around to inspect the top of Lance’s head for any injuries.

“Yeah Shiro, I’m good,” Lance knocked his knuckles against his scalp, “I was born with a thick skull, it’s taken many a knock and my brain hasn’t turned to mush yet!” he beamed. Lance took the momentary pause in the conversation to take a better look at the bouquet Shiro was holding. “Did you get your first order?”

“Sort of, this is for you. Well, mostly for your shop, but also for you.” Shiro held the sizable bundle out for Lance to take. “When I was here yesterday, I noticed that  _Altea_ maybe could have benefited from a little bit of color.”

Lance glanced down at the bouquet in Shiro’s arms before staring up at him inquisitively. “Does my café seem dull?” Lance questioned, no heat behind his words, just pure curiosity.

“No, no! Oh God that came out wrong.” He clutched the bouquet back to his chest. “I, I wanted to have a better excuse than ‘being a florist is all I’m really good at, and I couldn’t come up with a better way to thank you for everything you’ve done for me’.” Shiro heaved a heavy sigh, his broad shoulders slumping in on themselves under the weight of his perceived guilt. “God I'm such an ass, I'm really sorry."

Lance quickly took pity on Shiro, “ _Phew,_ I was actually afraid my shop was more on the dull side and that’s why I didn’t get as many customers. But now I know that you were just embarrassed, I feel a bit better.”

He leaned forward and gently pried the bundle from Shiro’s arms, before carrying them behind the counter and pulling out a crystal blue vase and filled it with water. He slipped the flowers inside the column and fluffed the silky petals out to let them breathe properly.

“I guess I will forgive you this time, since you did such an amazing job arranging these. Can you tell me what’s in it?” Lance propped his elbow on the table and set his chin in his palm, summoning Shiro over to come and explain.

“Uh, yeah sure. Shiro shuffled over and plopped heavily into one of the bar stools on the other side of the counter. “Since it is July, I filled it with flowers that are in season to bloom at this time. Like this here,” Shiro reached out and fingered a long stem of speckled pink, upturned bells with lip shapes, “is called a snapdragon, it is meant to symbolize grace. These,” he fluttered the long, oblong, layered petals of a start burst looking flower, “are zinnias and they mean remembrance. And lastly,” Shiro plucked out a single bloom that looked remarkably similar to the ones that were still taking up space in his fridge.

“A gladiolus, right?” Lance exclaimed as he reached out and stroked the feathery edge of the purple bloom.

“Very good, a gladiolus. You’ve got a pretty good memory there, Lance.” Shiro praised.

“Well, when it is something that peaks my interest, I tend to remember every last detail very thoroughly.” Lance leaned forward and stuck his nose into one of the larger blooms on the stem, inhaling the floral notes, spiked with the tang of citrus and the smoothness of rose. “So, what does the gladiolus mean?”

“You’re sharp to pick up on that.” Shiro chuckled.

“Well, my friends don’t call me sharp shooter for nothing, you know!” Well, for that and also because he was a pretty decent shot. At least compared to his friends.

“You scored a 29 out of 40 on the Alternate Pistol Qualification Course?” Shiro’s head snapped up and he stared at Lance in awe.

_Crap._ In his attempt to show off, he had lead Shiro to a misunderstanding.

“Well, no, not really. But I can take pretty good potshots at tin cans at my friend’s house out in the country. Sorry to confuse you.” Lance’s cheeks flushed, and he twiddled his thumbs together.

“No, it’s okay, I got too excited that someone may know a little bit of army terminology and ranking. I mean I was an expert level myself on my Combat Pistol Qualification.” Shiro grinned, one side of his mouth turning up into a gentle smile.

“Is that so,” Lance prompted, “Well, you may have to show me your skills sometime.” He leaned onto his elbows once again and brought his shoulders in to frame his face.

“Sure, and we can see if you would have actually qualified as a sharp shooter at the same time.” Shiro offered.

“Hmm, care to make it interesting?” Lance countered.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, if I can shoot more targets than you, you have to bring me a bouquet once a week for an entire year to brighten up my “dull” _Altea_.”

“I said I was sorry, Lance!” Shiro lamented.

“ _Shush_ , I was just joking.” Lance beamed.

“Okay, well that sounds reasonable to me. But what do I get if I win?” Shiro leaned closer in to Lance’s bend figure on the counter.

“What do you want?” Lance replied quietly.

“How about…” Shiro actually had the audacity to think about what he wanted at a time like this?

_Me! You can have me if you win! I would purposely shoot terribly if you would take me as a prize!_

“How about if I win, you have to make me a meal once a week. Coffee included.” Shiro smirked.

Food. Why did it always seem like it was about food when it came to men? Well, whatever, Lance could work with food. It would at least give him a chance to see him once a week for the next year. A whole 52 seperate opportunities to chat Shiro up and to maybe progress things from there.

“You drive a hard bargain Shirogane, but... deal!” Lance straightened up and held his hand out to shake on their deal. Shiro rose slowly from his chair and held out his prosthetic hand, Lance’s smaller palm engulfed in the cool, hard metal of Shiro’s grip.

“I look forward to the food, _sharp shooter._ ” Shiro’s voice rumbled as he slightly squeezed Lance’s hand in his own. This man was going to be the death of him. All too quickly, Shiro released his hand and shifted towards the door.  

“Well, I look forward to the flowers, _mí león negro.”_ Lance felt his metaphorical chest puff at the deliberate drop of his native tongue into the conversation. He knew Shiro was going to pick up on it instantly and want to know the meaning behind it. And even though he was thoroughly enjoying the look of confusion that had painted across Shiro’s face, it was still a little embarrassing that he was going to have to explain it.

“Wha-”

“Hey Lance, I finally figured out that _Cubano._ Can I try my hand at actually making that Mayan Mocha now?” Matt called as he rounded the corner of the kitchen, wiping his hands on the blue striped dishtowel he had tucked into his apron. Thank god for Matt and his perfect timing.

“Matt, have you met the new neighbor? Matt, this is Takashi Shirogane. Shiro, this is Matt Holt, Pidge’s older brother.” Lance scruffed the back of Matt’s shoulder and all but shoved him forward into Shiro.

“Shiro! Pidge has told me a lot about you. It’s really nice to meet you.” Matt held out his hand for Shiro to take, but like yesterday, Shiro held back for a moment.

“It’s nice to meet you to Matt, umm.” Shiro’s metal arm flexed under his sleeve like he wanted to just reach out and take Matt’s hand, but he was afraid to.

“Oh, don’t worry. Pidge told me about your arm, and I think it’s pretty cool. I have plenty of battle injuries myself, so please don’t mind me.” Matt continued to hold his arm in the air, determination etched on his face as if to say, “ _I can wait for as long as it takes, but if you’re uncomfortable, we don’t have to shake until you’re ready_ ”.

 “Thanks Matt, and Pidge has told me a bit about you too. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Shiro chuckled before firmly taking Matt’s outstretched hand.

As Lance watched Shiro and Matt get better acquainted, he felt his eyebrow twitch and he had to swipe his palm across his face to get it to stop. _Okay, he is allowed to shake hands with whoever he wants. Just because he thought you were refreshing for not treating him like an invalid, does NOT give you any sort of right to get jealous when he touches someone else._

“Hey Shiro, don’t you have to go open the shop?” Both Matt and Shiro glanced back at him before turning to the large, analog clock over the front door. _Way to be subtle, douchebag._

“Yeah, you’re right. I really do need to head out.” Shiro exclaimed as he tugged at the sleeves of his slim fitting turtle neck.

“Wait Shiro. Lance, could I try that Mayan Mocha and give it to Shiro since it will be a trial run? You can take it out of my pay.” Matt pleaded, his eyes going full-on puppy dog wide. He even went as far to pout out his lips and clasp his hands in front of his chest.

“No Matt, it’s okay. I don’t even know what a mocha is so I’m not sure if I could appreciate it.” Shiro replied sheepishly.

“Lance!” Matt exclaimed as he clung to Lance’s shirt. “See! He needs to receive the sweet chocolaty nectar of the gods!” Matt feigned a ‘case of the vapors’ as he threw a hand over his eyes and trust fell into Lance’s body.

“Matt, dude! Pull yourself together, you weigh like a thousand pounds.” Lance tried to hoist Matt back to his feet, his own sneakers slipping slightly on the linoleum floor.

“For shame, Lance! How dare you comment about my weight!” Matt scrambled to his feet and placed a hand over his heart in feigned offense. “Shiro, comfort me.” Matt threw himself into Shiro’s arms, seeking comfort against the broad chest.

Shiro stumbled back at the force with which Matt flew into his chest. His arms slowly coming up to pat against the young man’s back in the most awkward attempt at comfort Lance had ever seen.

_Oh, hell no._

“Fine Matt, fine. You can make Shiro a drink to go but I’m not taking it out of your pay. So hop to, before I change my mind.” Lance crossed his arms across his chest and shifted his weight onto his left leg, effectively popping his hip out to the side.

“Perfect, be right back!” Matt squealed as he scampered off behind the counter.

“ _Jamonero!_ ” Lance let out a long exhale and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry about him, he’s always been kinda clingy, especially since he was discharged.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just such a stark contrast from his sister.” Shiro pulled at the hem of his turtle neck to readjust the mess Matt had made of it.

“Surprisingly, that is one of the only area where they differ. They both love technology and learning new things. And don’t make the mistake of saying any sort of gaming platform like X-Box or PlayStation is better than PC, they will not only rip you a new one, but they will put you back together, rip you apart again, and then bury a piece of you in all 50 states so nobody would find your body.”

“Heh, thanks for the heads up. I’ll be sure to keep my tech preferences to myself then.” Shiro leaned in to cup the side of his hand next to his mouth. “In all honesty, I prefer board games to any sort of video game.”

Lance could have burst out laughing at the confession, if he wasn’t so busy worrying about how close Shiro’s mouth was, and how easy it would be to just close the distance between them.

“N-no worries, your secrets safe with me, old man." He tilted his head to the side inquisitively. "Speaking of, I never asked how old you were.” 

“Hey, I’m not that old! I’ll be 32 this February.” Shiro straightened up and glanced down his nose at Lance as he chuckled into his closed fist. “Why, how old are you? You can’t be less than what, 28?”

“Funny you should ask, it’s actually my birthday next Sunday. I’ll be 24.” Lance stated proudly.

“Oh my god, you’re just a baby!” Shiro exclaimed, his eyes going wide. “How did you come to own your own business at such a young age?” Lance straightened up before crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hey, I’m not a baby, and I worked hard to make _Altea_ mine.” He looked around at the small room, taking in everything. The paisley wallpaper that was peeling slightly at the corners up next to the ceiling. The slightly yellowed, linoleum that lined the floor from the antique door all the way back to the kitchen. The thick, navy blue drapes he had installed next to the floor to ceiling windows to add a bit of color and luxuriousness.

In all honesty, the building was in need of a major update and makeover, but he had only owned _Altea_ for a little over three years, a present to himself on his 21 st birthday, and he still had yet to turn a sizeable profit. He was still able to bring in new flavors of coffee and seasonal menu items and keep his customers satisfied, but he wasn’t able to afford a separate apartment on top of the mortgage, so he lived in the small office space above the kitchen.

But, it was his. And he loved _Altea_ with everything he had.

“No, I didn’t mean to offend you, I was just really surprised. I’m sorry, I put my foot in my mouth again.” Shiro hung his head slightly in shame, his shoulder slumping forward as he stared at his feet. Lance would never consider blackmail, or taking advantage of person while they were down. Nope, never.

“Hey, how about this.” Lance prompted, “You can make it up to me by hanging out with me on my birthday. I usually don’t have a huge party or anything like that, but I usually close the shop for the day and I hang out with my friends. We could have that sharp shooter competition we talked about that day too.” He watched as Shiro contemplated the offer, his eyes shifting back and forth potentially looking for loopholes or other ways to make up to Lance for his inability to contain his surprise. “I’ll just need to clear the land with my friend, Lotor. He’s got a lot of space since his family is one of the richest in the area. If he was willing, we could even have a bonfire and beer to congratulate the winner of the contest.”

_Come on, just give in. Just say, yes._

“I’ll have to check my schedule, but that should work just fine." The side of Shiro’s mouth turned up into a lopsided grin.

_Yes! Score. Baby, you are so smooth!_

Just as Lance was about to hold out his hand to seal the deal once again., a jaunty tune traveled through the space between then and Shiro jolted, his hand flying the front pocket of his _very_ well-fitting jeans.

“Is…is that the Detroit Lion’s fight song?” Lance was a huge football nut. He could quote stats backwards and forwards for any team from the present, back to whenever the team was founded. He knew the current stats for the starting quarterbacks on every team. He knew which team had the best offensive line based on sacks allowed and rushing yard achieved per game versus the pass yards.

_Altea_ was Lance’s everything, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have time to pursue one of his other passions every Sunday. And, the fact that _Altea_ was only closed on Sundays, was just a happy coincidence.

_Honest._

And the fact that Shiro may like the sport just as much as he did, and that he seemed to root for his favorite team as well? Well, just add another tally to the “this man should be illegal he is so perfect” column.

“Yeah actually it is. You’ve got pretty good ears.” _Pretty, he said my ears were pretty!_ Lance dug his nails into the palm of his hand to calm his racing thoughts as Shiro finally glanced at the name on the screen,  _Allura_ if Lance could read correctly, and the look of confusion on Shiro’s face gave Lance pause. It was like his mouth was trying to burst out into a full-fledged smile, but his eyes and body kept flicking between the screen and Lance. “Sorry, I should take this.”

“No problem, I should go check on Matt anyway. It seems to be taking longer than usual.” Lance turned swiftly and almost tripped over his own feet as he scrambled to give Shiro some privacy to take the call. “Hey, almost finished over there?”

“Yup, just one… more... touch…” Matt diligently piped thick chocolate sauces over the fluffy, sweet cloud of foam he had created from scratch. “There, perfect!” He exclaimed, propping his hands against his hips in triumph.

“What the…” Lance stooped over the paper to-go cup to get a better look, to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

Nope. The bastard had definitely drawn a swirling heart in the middle of the foam. The heavier syrup making a small heart shaped mound in the middle of the foam that surrounded it. “Really Matt?”

“Hey, are you blind? He’s _SOO_ hot, Lance!” _I know that already, bitch! I’m not blind!_ “And hopefully, single.” Matt carefully took the cup between his hands, moving gingerly so as not to disturb the ‘love-island’ he had created, before sliding it into a cardboard collar. Lance followed Matt back around the counter, leaning a hip against the hard Formica and glanced around the small room to see where Shiro had gone.

Shiro had taken up residence in the front corner of the café, his legs crossed at the ankles and his shoulder leaned heavily into the corner of the wall as he glanced out the window. His arms crisscrossed his chest and Lance could see the shadows his muscles created under his long sleeves as they lay across his broad chest. His who body exuded calm and strength and confidence.

However, his face was lit up brighter than the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling. He spoke animatedly into the phone, nodding his head every so often as if the person on the other end could actually see him.

The morning sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon of the far-off mountains in the distance and stream through the large store front windows. Lance watched as the star dust danced in the sunbeams as they penetrated the windows into the quiet space.

This was Lance’s favorite time of day. Aside, of course, from being in the middle of a rush, waiting on up to ten tables at a time, taking new to-go orders, and trying to not only keep the customers happy, but his small staff functioning as well.

The quiet mornings that held the promise of what the day could potentially bring. Of jumping into slightly familiar, yet highly unpredictable waters. He knew his menu, his ingredients, his machines, and staff. He knew their strengths, their deficits, and even their quirks as if they were his own.

But his customers were the wildcard in his deck. They could be regulars or first timers. Elderly couples or those potentially on a first date. A study group or a bridal shower. Whole families of people out for a celebration, or a single individual in need of nothing more than a strong cup of coffee and a shoulder to lean on to make it through the day.

But, he loved all of it. The outdated, slightly rundown interior with all of its smells, that was in need of a facelift. The unpredictability of the customers. The ever-changing menu and the pursuit to find fresh, free-trade, responsibly grown produce and coffee. The fact that he had to live over the shop and sometimes had to go without the luxuries that his friends enjoyed in order to make ends meet every month. Even down to the finickiness of his coffee grinder he had brought all the way from Cuba when he moved here almost 10 years ago.

He wouldn’t trade any of it for all the money in the world.

He was pulled from his reminiscing as he caught Shiro pushing off from the wall and end the call with a chuckle and a click swipe across the screen of his phone. As Shiro turned back to join them once more, Lance gasped quietly and blinked as slowly as he could so as not to miss this perfect moment.

The light was stronger now, the sun’s rays brightening up the space considerably and as Shiro walked over to them, his form lit up. An ethereal glow emanated out from his body, from the tips of his white lock of hair down to the solid foundation of his chunky work boots on the linoleum.

_Un ángel…_

“Sorry about that, I really had to take that call.” He sheepishly admitted as he rubbed at the back of his head with his metal arm, the slight scuffing sound ringing in Lance’s ears. He watched Shiro turn and glance once again at the clock above the door and drop his arm quickly, “oh, crap!”

“No worries, here’s your mocha!” Matt piped up loudly and held out the steaming cup, just far enough that Shiro was forced to take a step closer to Matt in order to properly reach what Matt offered. “Oh, and here,” Matt turned slightly and bend over the counter more, which popped his butt out further than necessary in his opinion, to retrieve a compostable plastic lid, “a lid, if you need one.”

_I’m gonna kill him!_

Shiro nodded his head quickly before grasping the lid, Lance’s nails digging into his palms as he watched Matt’s fingers reach out and stroke along Shiro’s as they exchanged the thin, white plastic. As Shiro stepped back, Lance saw Matt bring his hand up and waggle his fingers at Shiro as he bid him farewell before he turned on his heel and sauntered back to the kitchen.

_What do I say now? Do I pick back up with the competition? Do we discuss my birthday? Do we talk about how Carson Wentz of the Philadelphia Eagles was the top rated quarterback of the year when you combined his points added, pass, rush, penalty, and quarterback plays, beating out the more popular ones like Roethlisberger, Brady, and Prescott._

As Lance mentally began to panic, Shiro broke the silence.

“So, before I head back, what exactly is in a Mayan Mocha?” He tipped the cup to his lips took a deep inhale of the fragrant steam.

“How about you taste it and find out?” Lance playfully commented.  _I can be forward too, Matt!_   Lance saw Shiro’s eyes flash for a second before he tilted his chin down and look up at him from under his eyebrows.

“Hmmm, mysterious. Well, bottoms up then.” Shiro brought the steaming cup to his lips and took a tentative sip of the concoction. “ _Mmm,_ I get a hint of cinnamon and, is there chocolate in this? It’s not like normal chocolate, it’s more bitter, but that works with the…” Shiro stopped mid-sentence, his eyes going wide as he took long breaths in through his nose. _And there’s the chili._

“What, what’s in this?” Shiro panted as he pulled down large gulps of air over his tongue to try and cool his mouth down to manageable proportions. His hand twitched as if it was tempted to come up and help fan even more air over into his mouth.

“ _That’s_ what makes this drink special,” Lance stated proudly, “It’s a normal mocha but with added cinnamon, Mexican chocolate, and ground chili flakes. What, too spicy for you, _grandpa_?”

Shiro’s eyes flashed as his head jerked to look at Lance. _Whoa, hello there, big boy,_ Lance felt his gut throb and air rushed into his nose as his heart rate banged behind his ribs.

“Okay, I like spicy things just as much as the next guy, but that was a bit much.” Shiro swiped his hand across his forehead, removing the beads of sweat that had gathered there. “Just, just give me a heads up next time. Okay, _sharpshooter?”_

_Next time, he wants a next time!_

“Well, alright, but that takes all the fun and mystery out of the situation if you know what you’re getting into beforehand, don’t you think?” Lance prompted.  _Subtle, smooth, suave._

“Well, if I at least have a basic idea, I can more thoroughly enjoy what I am getting into.” Shiro propped his hip against the counter and leaned into Lance’s space, holding eye contact as he boldly took another sip of the fiery death liquid.

Lance felt his breathing grow short as his mind and heart raced. His palms went clammy and he felt the front of his jeans begin to grow tighter as he throbbed behind his fly.

“S-so, as long as your schedule permits, I’ll call my friend and see if next Sunday is okay for us to go out.” Lance paused briefly, this was not an invitation for a date. At least not yet. “ _Come out!_ Sorry I meant come out. No wait!” Lance may be out but he still had yet to get a for certain read on Shiro. “I-I meant, uuuh…” _Idiot! Stupid, half-brained, mother fucking…_

“Lance, it’s okay I know what you mean. And even if I’m busy, I’ll definitely make time. I’d love to help you celebrate your birthday.” Shiro grinned, the barest hint of it reaching his eyes. _Oh my god, he said love. He would LOVE to hang out! And with ME!_

“And not just because I look forward to spanking your ass in the competition and getting free meals for a year. Bye Matt, thanks for the coffee.”

“No problem Shiro!” Matt bellowed from the kitchen. “Be sure to come back real soon for more of my sweet nectar.”

Shiro turned before Lance could respond and was out the door with a jingle and a click, the only indicator that he had even been there in the first place was his retreating back and the scent of coffee, chocolate, and chilis in the air.

But seriously, like Lance could form words at the moment when his head was flooded with images of being bent over Shiro’s knee, his ass bright red and stinging as he thanked him for the punishment and begged for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may eventually be throwing in some Spanish or Japanese dialogue and I will try to always translate them out here. If there is every one that I missed, please let me know and I will update the chapter ASAP.
> 
> ~ mí león negro = my black lion  
> ~ Jamonero = essentially the Cuban equivalent of pervert  
> ~ un ángel = an angel
> 
> As always, thank you so much for stopping by and spending time with my work! If you are en joying it so far, drop me a line. If you are confused by something or want to voice an opposing opinion, I'm open to those as well!


	3. Hot Chocolate and Viburnum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, this is a 3 POV chapter: Shiro, Lance, and Lotor. Some slight pining.

Shiro stuffed his hand into his pocket as he continued to sip on the mocha with the other. _So smooth. So in control. So desirable_. He pushed through the front door, the Totoro chime above it tinkling lightly as the top of the door pushed through the hanging components.

He walked over to the counter and set the cup down next to the register and turned to head into the walk-in cooler off to the side of the small shop.

“Morning Shiro,” Hunk walked in from the back entrance, arms laden with paperwork and two different laptop messenger bags. “Hey, were you able to-” Shiro cut off the greeting as he popped the handle to in the walk-in and closed the door behind him with a satisfying _thunk_.

He took a deep breath in through his nose, the cool air chilling a path from his sinuses all the way down to his diaphragm.

And he hit the floor.

Shiro wrapped his hands around his head and rocked back and forth on the heels of his feet. _Oh my god, Shirogane! Oh my god! Why did you say that?! You have known this guy for less than a day! What the fuck is your problem?_

He replayed the scenario in his head again and again. The way Lance had leaned against the counter, the way his mouth curved up at the corners causing a small indent to form around the edges in a cute little crinkle, the way his eyes sparkled in the morning sunlight like water rippling on the ocean in summer.

The way that he had made a fool of himself by first offending the man and his livelihood, burned his entire digestive tract on the coffee, _that is not gonna be fun in a few hours,_ and then he essentially sexually harassed Lance by saying that he wanted to spank him. Even if he had just meant to be playful.

Shiro flopped over onto his side on the floor of the cooler, small rose petals and viburnum leaf litter scattering in his wake. “ _Whyyyy!_ ” he moaned into his hands as they covered his face. It wasn’t fair. Lance was so perfect, and kind, and cool.

And he was just an absolute mess.

“Hey man, where’s the dying whale?” Hunk had opened the door to the fridge and in his misery, Shiro hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Not now Hunk, I’m wallowing.” Shiro mumbled, but shifted to a seated position burying his face behind his arms as they crossed over his knees, avoiding the small puddle of water that had leaked out from one of the black plastic container vases full of roses.

“Nope, sorry, not in my nature to leave a wounded animal to its own defenses. It might hurt itself more in the end.” Hunk got down on his haunches in front of Shiro. “So, you have two options,” he punctuated his point by holding up two chubby fingers, “we can talk this out over a cup of cocoa on the couch,” Hunk reached forward and pushed the white shock of hair off his face. “or we can bro out and throw back some beers and talk over the occasional down moments during football reruns on ESPN. You’re choice big man.”

“Hunk, it is literally 8:30 in the morning.” Shiro gaped at the mountain in front of him incredulously, before burrowing back into his arms. “Why would you even suggest beer?”

“That’s why I’m more partial to the cocoa, but whichever is gonna get you feeling better is good with me.” Hunk settled into the soles of his feet as if to drive the point home that he would not be leaving until Shiro made a decision.

“…Does the cocoa have mini marshmallows?” Shiro mumbled from behind his hands.

“A whole handful’s worth.” Hunk beamed, slowly getting to his feet as his knees popped loudly. Shiro gently turned his head to poke an eye out from behind his arm.

“…and pancakes?” he asked quietly. Hopefully.

“With your favorite blueberry compote on top even.” Hunk held out his large palm to help Shiro off the floor.

Shiro slowly raised his head from his arms and dragged a hand through his hair, pushing the longer lock of snow white back over his jet black, close-cropped hair, before it flopped back down into place. He sighed heavily and reached up to take Hunk’s hand and was pulled from the floor smoothly.

“That a boy.” Hunk prodded as he walked Shiro out of the cooler and up the back steps to the small apartment over the store, “Now, you just take a seat and I’ll get you all set up. Feel free to start unloading at any time though.”

Hunk pulled out the foldable chair at the card table that served as the kitchen table, at least for the moment, and plopped Shiro down into it before he headed to the kitchen and began rummaging through the cabinets.

“Dude, you really should have let me move the stuff into the kitchen for you. I’m never going to be able to find anything every again.” Hunk grumbled as he pushed aside boxes of pasta, canned tomatoes, bags of rice, and drink packs of Capri-Sun.

“You could have come over and helped at any time you know.” Shiro grumbled as Hunk began pulling ingredients out of the pantry and setting them up on the counter next to the flour, eggs, and the small jug of milk he had pulled from the fridge. A small bowl of baseball sized mandarin oranges getting shoved to the side to make room for Hunk’s mixing bowl and electric griddle.

“Hey, I was up to my eyebrows in research for that new blue aster you wanted for the store. By the time I had finalized the coding and had gotten reliable, repeatable f2 generations from heterozygous parental generations…”

“Hunk stop, my stomach is already on fire I don’t need a headache as well.” Shiro faceplanted on the table. Which would have caused a nice, big sunburst in the middle of his forehead if it hadn’t been for the slight padding on the table top.

“Fine, fine. All I was going to say was I was very busy and the times that I was able to come help out, it always seemed to be for heavy lifting jobs. And then by the time I had gotten to a good stopping point, you had already moved in.” The crack of egg shells shattering against the Formica countertop and the sound of metal against glass as Hunk whisked the mixture together brought Shiro’s head back up. He leaned back in his chair, letting his head hang back on his spine.

He didn’t raise his head again until he head a soft _thunk_ against the table in front of him. Hunk had set down a steaming mug of chocolaty goodness with a thick pillow of mini marshmallows on top. They had just started to melt and run together, their creamy sweetness sinking into the liquid chocolate.

The pancakes were thicker than his palm and stacked almost a foot tall. Hunk’s “world-famous” blueberry compote, thick and syrupy, eked over the sides of the small mountain in dark purply-blue rivers to pool around the stack like a moat. The speckling of juicy berries dotted the smooth surface of the flat cakes.

Shiro picked up his fork, his mouth flooding with saliva as the sweetness of the berries, the chocolatiness of the cocoa, and the citrusy tang of the mandarin Hunk had peeled and placed into one of the moon cups on his astronaut plate, flooded his senses. He was just about to sink the metal tines into the fluffy goodness, when his plate scooted away from his a few inches.

“Ah ah,” Hunk scolded, “I did my part, now spill.” Hunk slid the plate back in front of Shiro and settled into his chair, the handle of his own mug held between his fingers.

Shiro drug one of the tines on his fork through the collected compote juices at the bottom of the plate, creating little valleys in the syrup as he contemplated how to start this conversation.

_I’m an idiot? I screwed up? The guy I’ve had a crush on for months thinks I’m the biggest jerk in the world now?_ He sank his fork into the fluffy stack and cut out a lopsided triangle wedge, blueberry juice clinging to the slightly ragged edges.

“Well, I went over to check on the gladioli that we stored at Lance’s place yesterday, right?” He held his fork aloft, inches from his mouth, and watched as the compote dripped down the side and splattered against the plate quietly. “And in the end, I gave backhanded insults and had my digestive system set on fire via coffee.”

Hunk cocked his head to the side before bringing his cup to his lips again to contemplate what Shiro had said.

“Oh, and then I told Lance I was gonna spank his ass.” And Shiro popped the bite of deliciousness into his waiting mouth.

Aaaaaaaaaand…. now he was going to have to take another shower, as Hunk sprayed hot chocolate and spit all over him in his unveiled act of surprise.

***

Lance awoke to an eager tongue and sloppy kisses all over his face. His eyes wrenched open in the morning sunlight, only being able to take in vague shapes and shadows until his eyes adjusted to the low light.

“ _O-Oso_ , quit it!” Lance pushed at the large mountain of black fur that had pounced on him. As the large mass moved off Lance’s chest enough so he could breathe, Lance rubbed his eyes until he could see properly.

He reached out groggily to his nightstand to check the time on his phone. He groaned audibly once his brain processed the set of numbers displayed on the screen.

“ _Oso_ , my man. It’s only 8am. You know I get to sleep in on Sundays. I just went to bed about four hours ago. You couldn’t give me another…” Lance stopped mid-sentence and bolted upright in bed, sending the thin jersey sheets and the large mammal flying. _Shit!_

Today was the day. Yes, it was his birthday. Yes, the game was going to be on in a few hours. But that’s not what had sent him into a frenzy as he scrambled for the bathroom, slipping on discarded shirts and the occasional lonesome sock that had missed the hamper.

He was going to see Shiro today. And not in a, ‘hey I came to get the flowers I stored in your cooler.’, ‘oh sure. And here, have a coffee to go!’ kind of capacity.

They were going to be having their competition later today and just 'hanging out' in general. Thankfully Lotor had been more than willing to let them use his land. The only caveat was that he got to come along for the ride.

Lance could live with that, since Pidge and Hunk were joining as well. Pidge and Lotor got along famously every time they all hung out so maybe they would be able to help keep Hunk and Lotor out of his hair while he got to know Shiro better.

He flicked the hanging fluorescent bulb in his bathroom on and examined his face in the mirror. _Joder!_ He looked like hell. It could have been a lot worse if he had let Lotor talk him into going to their usual dive bar last night, but he still didn’t look his best. He rummaged through the hall closet for his face wash, toner, and masques. It was going to take a lot of work to get all … _this_ … ready for tonight.

He reached into the shower and gave a death-grip twist of the rusted knob until it shrieked like a banshee and water poured from the showerhead. He quickly stripped out of his boxers and grabbed the products he would need before he hopped in the shower.

As Lance began scrubbing the grime from yesterday from his body, he ran through his checklist of what he would need for later today. Lotor had graciously said he could use his kitchen to make any food items that he wanted, he would just have to bring the ingredients.

_Fruit salad…check._

_Black beans, rice, flank steak…check_

_Rum, coke, limes … check_

He just had to gather up the cookware he needed and stop at the store before he got to Lotor’s to pick up a bunch of plantains and he would be all set to get ready for the evening. He didn’t like celebrating his birthday in the traditional sense, but his friends always wanted to do something on his birthday. So, after years of begging and threats, he finally succumbed to their request. But, he was allowed to plan the day and perform and of the preparations himself.

That was the only rule he had. He got to plan his own birthday “get-together”. Nobody was allowed to throw him a surprise _anything_.

Not after his 12th birthday.

Pulling himself out of that blackhole before he got sucked in, he quickly ran his shampoo and conditioner through his hair and made sure to use his Peach flavored body scrub to make sure he was all buffed and shined before the short supply of hot water ran out.

Lance wrenched the shower knob one more time to shut off the flow and wrapped a towel around his hips loosely. He wiped the steam from the mirror and leaned in to inspect his face, pulling his nose to the side and stretching his skin up and down to get a feel for the hydration in his skin. He grabbed his coconut milk brightening mask, which he had made himself,  _thank you very much_ , and thumbed out a good amount before massaging it into his skin.

Once the mask was in place, he knew he was going to need at least 15 minutes for it to work its magic, so he plodded out into the kitchen and found Oso dancing in front of his food bowl.

“Hey _Oso,_ you ready for breakfast?” Lance popped the lid on the plastic tub he kept next to the fridge and filled the dog's bowl to the brim. “That’s a good boy. Sorry your breakfast is a little late today.” Lance scratched behind the large dog’s floppy ears as he chowed down happily on the kibble.

Lance had picked up Oso almost two years ago when he had seen a thin, scraggly puppy hanging around the back of his store every night when he took out the trash. It had taken close to three months to gain the pup’s trust enough to be able to bring him in the house, but it had been worth it. Once Oso had crossed the threshold of _Altea_ , he never looked back.

Now, Oso was still very nervous around strangers and people in general, thus Lance kept him upstairs most of the time to make sure he was comfortable. He made sure to make multiple trips upstairs to check on his baby and to let him out, though. He had eventually warmed up to Pidge and Lotor, but it had taken considerably longer than it had with Lance. And on the rare occasion Oso was downstairs in _Altea_ when it was open, he tended to get a little over protective of Lance and stick to his side like glue.

Lance scrunched his nose at the pleased sounds Oso made as he chowed down on breakfast and felt a tightening over his nose and brow. The pull informed him that he had somehow lost track of time and his mask was now ready to be removed. He ran a hand towel under a warm stream of water and gently scrubbed the mask away, leaving behind fresh, bright skin.

He quickly finished up his routine with his toner, moisturizer, and eye cream and trotted back to his room to go category five hurricane on his closet. However, after another 20 minutes of searching, he couldn’t find anything suitable, so he settled for his typical skinny jeans, grey t-shirt and his olive green military style jacket.

True, it was July, but Lotor kept the house at temperatures that would rival the ice planet of Hoth, so at least he would be able to put on or take of his jacket if needed. Lance grabbed the shop keys out of the bowl next to his front door and slipped his feet into his worn-out pair of high-top sneakers. A wet nose pushed into his hands as he fumbled with the laces and a high-pitched whine hit his ears.

“ _Oso,_ I’m sorry bud, but you’re gonna have to stay here today.” He scratched behind the mammoth dog’s ears until his tongue was lolling out the side of his mouth. “I know you usually come with me to Lotor’s but, I have a friend coming you haven’t met yet, and I want you both to get along before you spend a whole day together. _¿Está bien?_ ”

He gently cupped the dogs large, drool soaked mouth between his hands and placed his forehead to the bony dip between his eyes. The fluffy behemoth glanced to the side away from Lance’s gaze as if he understood he was being left alone today.

“I’ll let you meet him soon though. Later this week, how about that? I promise.” Oso huffed once, and then proceeded to cover Lance’s face in sloppy kisses.

“Heh, I guess I’ll take that as an okay.” He leaned forward and kissed the short, scruffy fur between his eyes and got to his feet. “Now, be a good boy. Pidge will be by in a few hours to let you out before they head over. I shouldn’t be out too late.”

He picked up one of the tennis balls he kept in a large bowl by the door for purposes such as these, and gave it a gentle chuck into the small apartment. As Oso took off after the ball, nails scratching against the linoleum, he let out large, booming barks as he chased after the ball. Lance used this opportunity to sneak out the front door and lock it behind him.

Down in _Altea’s_ kitchen, he grabbed the few things he would need and packed them into the back of Lotor’s car. Lance had yet to get a car of his own, the mortgage on _Altea_ and the other debts he currently had didn’t allow him the luxury of a personal transport vehicle besides his bike.

When Lance had driven Lotor home last night after _Altea_ closed, he told Lance to borrow his car overnight, so he would have an easier time getting all his supplies to his friend’s house in the morning. Lance started up the engine of Lotor’s newest acquisition to his motor collection, a Purple Passion Audi Q7, and headed for the store.

“Lance, good morning! What brings you in?” The energetic, middle-aged woman at the door greeted him as he walked into the store. Lance held his arms wide as she quickly walked into them, holding him tightly.

“Morning _mamá_ , I’m just stopping in to get some things for our get together tonight.” Lance stepped back from Pidge’s mom and grabbed a black, plastic handbasket from the pile next to the door.

“Today’s the big day isn’t it? Our big guy turns 24 today! Oh! Hang on a second.” She quickly scampered into the small office at the front of the store. Lance figured with as much time as it usually takes her to find things, he had time to walk across the small store and pick up the items he needed.

He timed it perfectly. As he placed the bundle of ripe plantains and the bottle of Zacapa Dark Rum on the conveyor belt to check out, Mrs. Holt was reemerging from the office. Her husband in tow behind her.

“Here Lance, open it now since we aren’t too busy.” She shoved a small box, wrapped in blue and white star paper, into his empty arms.

“You really didn’t have to.” Lance turned the box over, careful to slide his finger under the pieces of tape so as not to tear the paper. He knew Mrs. Holt liked to save wrapping paper to use it again. She’d been using paper of this particular pattern since he and Pidge had met when he was 15.

As he lifted the top of the small box open and peeled the light blue wrapping paper aside, a phone case was staring back at him. The case was navy blue and had bright pinpoints of stars connected by constellation lines in the background. In the foreground, three steaming cups of coffee floated about in space. Each saucer contained a varying number of star-shaped dipping cookies to compliment the cup it sat next to.

“You guys, I love it!” He immediately reached into his pocket to pull out his phone and hurriedly popped off his old watercolor mandala case and clipped the new one in place. He lovingly traced his finger over the constellations, swirling around the cups of coffee. “Thank you so much, I love you.”

He lunged forward and scooped them both into a bear hug, his arms wrapping around their necks.

“We love you too, Lance.” Pidge’s mom murmured as she gently rubbed circles into his upper back. “You’re like a second son to us.” Lance felt his throat begin to close up as she squeezed his neck tightly between her arms.

“Come on now Colleen, don’t smother the boy.” Lance gasped lightly as he felt the pressure around his neck loosen. “Let’s get you on your way Lance. I know you have a lot of work to do.” Sam holt walked briskly behind the counter and logged into the system, scanning the few items he had gathered. As he saw the final price flash across the small screen in bright, green neon lettering, he reached into his back pocket for his Velcro Power Rangers wallet.

“It’s okay Lance,” he pushed Lance’s hands back as he handed him the small paper bag, “Just enjoy your birthday. Now go on!” He shoved the bag into Lance’s hands and gently pushed him out the door of the store. “Just keep an eye on Pidge for us, you know how they get around rum.”

Lance chuckled under his breath, fondly remembering the first time Pidge had rum when they were a sophomore in college. They had called Lance to come pick them up and he had spent the next three hours manhandling a feisty, uncooperative Pidge.

“I will, they’re still coming over at five, right?” He asked as he placed the small bag on the passenger seat.

“That’s the last we heard. Have fun baby!” Mrs. Holt squealed as she waved vigorously to him as he got into the driver side and started the engine up with a robust purr. He waved back to the both of them as he pulled out of the parking spot and onto the main road.

Lance tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and bounced his foot to the gentle rhythm of the car. Now that he was alone, with nothing but his thoughts to entertain him, he was nervous again.

_Uuuuugh!_ He lunged forward and switched the station on the radio from the deep, bass notes of Skrillex that Lotor enjoyed to a more contemporary station. As Today’s Top 40 came through the speakers, he ran through what he needed to do to get everything ready for today.

Again.

Anything to keep his mind busy so he didn’t have to focus on the million and one ways this day could end in a diasater.

***

The gentle breeze fluttered the ends of his hair over his cheeks and the tip of his nose as the soft sound of the waterfall splashed in the distance. He shifted his leg until the tips of his toes played in the shallow water, cooling them slightly as he laid out in the hot summer sun.

Lotor dragged a hand through his hair, pushing back the offending locks off his face to hang off the end of the beach chair he had pulled into the gently sloping edge of his beach style pool. _What time is it?_ He wondered, trying to remember the last time he had applied a layer of sunscreen.

He lifted his arm overhead, tapping the screen on his Gear S3 Frontier, because  _fuck iPhone,_ to check the time. _12:04._ Lotor dropped his arm back down and counted out on his fingers two more hours until he needed to reapply.

_Wait, it’s after 12._ Lotor quirked his head to the side towards the house. _Lance should have been here hours ago._ He shifted his large body into a semi reclined position to check for signs of life in the large house.

Nothing.

He brought up his watch one more time and placed a call to Lance’s phone. _It was today right?_ However, receiving only voicemail at the end of the call, he cemented his decision to get up and make sure he was okay.

As Lotor walked up to the house, he made sure to check the driveway to see if his car was there or not. _Nope, not there._ Lotor hastened his pace slightly as he entered the house.

As he opened the door, his nose was assaulted by the aroma of food being prepared. The meatiness of the beef danced with the earthy quality of fresh vegetables along with the sharpness of garlic and the spicy undertones of Adobo sauce.

He rounded the corner to the kitchen and stomped over to the figure huddled over in front of the stove.

“You _bitch!”_ Lotor barked. Lance practicially jumped out of his skin as he screamed and slammed the oven door shut.

“Lotor, you scared the crap out of me! I almost burned my hand!” Lance held his hand up, inspecting each surface just to be sure he had indeed escaped harm.

“So, you think it’s okay to just waltz into my house, use my car and my groceries, and not even have the decency to say hello to me or let me know you’re here?” Lotor crossed his arms over his bare chest, his forearms framing the sharp underside of his pecs. “I even tried calling you and you didn’t answer. I thought something had happened to you.”

“Wha-” Lance reached into his pocket for his phone, before pulling it out and checking the screen. “Oh, sorry. I had it on silent from last night.” He commented before flicking the side of his phone to restore the sound function.

“Wait, you were worried about me?” Lance questioned, giving Lotor a sidelong glance and a shit-eating smirk. Lotor fumed silently, careful to not let it show on his face.

“Not really, I’ve just put a lot of time and effort into this relationship and it would be such a hassle to find someone new.” Lotor looked around the large kitchen and noticed that Lance had prepared everything for dinner tonight and was now in the ‘sit-and-wait’ phase until he could work on the remaining components.

“Well, here. As thanks for letting me use your place again.” Lance scampered over to one of the bags on the counter and pulled out the bottle of Zacapa Dark Rum and handed it over to Lotor. “Your favorite!”

Lotor’s mouth watered and he felt the familiar loosening in his bones at the sight of the glass bottle. And he hadn’t even had a sip yet. He tilted the bottle slightly so the dark, amber liquid sloshed gently inside the glass container before grabbing two glasses out of the cupboard and filling them with ice.

“Well, it’s a start. Here,” he held out one of the glasses, now half filled with the dark fluid, “I’ll forgive you completely on two accounts. One because it’s your birthday.” He held the glass out for Lance to clink the edge of his glass against Lotor’s. “And two,” Lotor walked to the plush, leather couch in the living area and sank deeply into it, rummaging through the drawer in the coffee table at his feet, “work your magic and make me look good for tonight.”

He heard Lance chuckle in the background as he gently waved the hairbrush in the air above his head in one hand and set the bottle of deep purple nail polish and emery board on the table with the other.

“Yes, yes. _Whatever_ my prince desires.” Lance clambered over the back of the couch, sliding into position along the spine of the couch, behind Lotor and took the brush from his hands.

“That’s more like it.” Now, I’m thinking a messy bun will suffice for the day. That way I’ll stay cool and can take it down if I want to.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as Lance carded his fingers through his long, pale white hair.

They sat in comfortable silence while Lance worked his fingers through Lotor’s hair. Stopping every few minutes to rub along Lotor’s temples and across the lines where his hair met tanned skin.

“So,” Lotor reached forward and brought the glass to his lips, the amber liquid searing like fired honey down the back of his throat, “You’re nervous. Why?” Lance’s fingers stuttered as he began to feel tugging along the nape of his neck. Apparently Lance was putting in an underside braid to complement the bun, if the tugging signs were correct.

“I’m not nervous. What makes you think I’m nervous?” Lance pushed the questions off himself. Lotor made a show of forcing his head back until it sat securely in Lance’s lap, effectively rendering his hands useless in his hair.

“Lance, I’ve known you since we were kids so I’m pretty confident that I can tell what you’re feeling. Sometimes even before you do.” He picked his head back up and snapped the hairband off his wrist and held it out behind him for Lance to take. “Now stop being a baby and tell me what’s going on in that very thick, very empty skull of yours.”

Lotor yelped as his head was jerked back roughly and a broad palm smacked him across the forehead.

“Hey, just because I forgot to tell you I got here doesn’t mean I’m nervous or that I’m being a baby. And my head isn't empty either!” He shoved Lotor’s head back into an upright position and continued about the work he was doing previously. “You’re kinda acting like a bitch today. I should be asking what’s up with you.” 

Lotor crossed his arms over his chest again and pursed his lips together.

“If I tell you, you’ll come clean too?” Lance mumbled a ‘yes, yes’ behind him, and he downed the rest of the contents in his glass. “Well, you know that girl I met at the club, Ezor? The one with the wild rainbow hair? You know I’ve been letting her chase me for weeks because it was cute watching her trip over her own feet to try and win my favor.” He grabbed the small nail file and started rounding off the edge of his nails as he heard Lance make a small sound of agreement behind him.

“Well, I finally decided to give her a little reward for all the time and effort she has put into pursuing me, so I said I’d sleep with her. I mean, it’s been a couple of weeks, so I’ve been pent up.”

“Dude, come on. I don’t want to hear about that.” Lance tugged on his hair a bit rougher than necessary, at least in Lotor's opinion he did.

“Hey you asked. Now stop interrupting.” He puffed as he unscrewed the lid to the nail polish and began spreading the coating on in thick, smooth strokes. “So, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted," he glanced out the side of his eyes at the figure behind him, “I had decided to sleep with her. And you know what this bitch said. She had the audacity to ask if herfriend could join us. Who does she think she is? She hasn’t even slept with me once, and she’s already trying to take liberties.”

In his agitation, Lotor jerked the small brush to the side, staining the edge of his finger with purple polish. He swore under his breath and attempted to wipe off the offending splotch with the corner of a paper towel. “Is it asking too much that if someone has been trying to get into my pants for weeks that they try and show a little loyalty.”

“Lotor. You love threesomes.” Lance pointed out matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, when  _I_  suggest them, and as long as I get to be the center of attention. Otherwise, no thank you.” Lotor recapped the bottle and felt Lance pull away from his head. He felt along the braided ridge traveling from his nape up into the slightly messy bun at the crown of his head, careful not to smudge the fresh polish on his nails.

“You are so high maintenance.” Lance huffed as he climbed off the back of the couch once more.

“No, I’m not!” Lotor lamented, casting his body over the couch, “I just know what and who I like. Is that such a crime?” He watched Lance putter around the kitchen, replacing items in the fridge and cupboards and setting out others.

“No babe, it’s just who you are. And don’t worry, I still love you, if that makes you feel better.” Lance smirked and waggled his eyebrows at him.

“Ugh, then sleep with me so I can stop feeling like shit.” Lotor slowly slinked off the couch and sauntered over to Lance, gently pushing him against the fridge and tilting his chin up to look inot his eyes. “Come on Lancelot, for old times sake?” Lance chuckled at the old nickname and went to move around Lotor.

“We tried that once, and remember what a disaster that turned into?” Lance held up the bottle of cheap rum he had brought from home and began measuring it into a glass bowl along with a two liter of coke and some lime juice.

“Don’t remind me.” _Don’t remind me of the fact that I haven’t been able to have a serious relationship since then, you bastard._ He watched Lance whisk the liquids together and place them in a shallow dish in the freezer. “Well, now you know my damage. Spill.” He moved around the counter to pour himself another short glass of rum and settled in to listen to his best friend’s woes.

“Well, you remember me saying that I really like this guy, Shiro, that’s coming over today?” He fidgeted with some squeezed out husks of lime as Lotor felt his stomach drop into his feet.

“Yeah, the ex-army guy with the mecha arm and the built dad bod? What about him?”

“Well, what if I blow it today? What if I make a complete fool of myself and he doesn’t want to hang out again? What if he actually is already seeing someone and only sees me as a friend? What if-”

Lance was spiraling. He got like this a lot especially if his anxiety level was already high for one reason or another. Lotor placed his glass on the counter and took Lance by the shoulders, shaking him firmly.

“Lance. You always do this. You get yourself worked up before anything has even happened.” Lotor placed a long, purple tipped finger across Lance’s lips as he started to protest. “No, no, yes you do. And you are such a catch Lancelot, any guy would be lucky to have you.” Lotor moved to gently stroke the side of Lance’s face. “And if this guy can’t see that, then I’ll just have to kill him. Because you don’t just look a goddess in the eye and expect to get away unscathed.”

Lotor gently booped Lance’s nose and moved back to his seat, to avoid staring at the slight blush that rose across Lance’s cheeks. A blush that Lotor has seen so many times and found so pretty, even though it had never been directed at him.

Lanced stepped forward and threw his arms around Lotor’s neck, mumbling thanks into the side of his neck. Lotor squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed past the knot in his chest before tugging at the back of his head.

“That’s what best friends are for, dummy. You finished in here for the time being?” Lotor grabbed his hand as Lance nodded in agreement. “Good, now let’s go soak up some more Vitamin D before all your friends get here and you try to get your own form of _Vitamin D."_

Lotor chuckled as Lance hauled back and slugged him in the shoulder as they walked towards the shimmering edge of the pool. He grabbed the remote to pull down the large white screen and projector so they could put the game on while they waited for the food to be ready and for their friends to arrive.


	4. Cuba Libres and Hydrangeas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I am so sorry I havn't updated in so long. I literally have no excuse, but I haven't completely dropped this story I promise! Hopefully this chapter helped make-up for it! Nothing smutty yet, but OH IT'S COMING! (hehehe)

 “ _I_ _n 500 feet, turn right and your destination will be on the left_ ” the monotone, tech voice explained through the car’s speaker system.

Shiro verbally thanked the automated voice from his phone’s GPS because, no matter what, it was always best to be polite and remember your manners. He set his phone back down on his thigh as he turned down a non-descript road that was nothing more than a strip of light grey gravel and a simple lamp post marking the path.

_This can’t be right._ Lance had said his friend was wealthy and here he was, out in the middle of nowhere, turning down what looked to be a very suspicious, mostly untraveled road that could have been the poster child for Murderville. Maybe he had typed the address wrong when Hunk had given it to him.

Hunk was originally going to drive both of them out to Lotor’s, but he had a last-minute engagement at work that he had to stay late for. He had been more than willing to wait for him, but Hunk had just chuckled and shooed him out the door saying he had already asked Pidge to drive him, since they were going later anyway.

Shiro watched the landscape around him, taking in the vibrant greens of the tall oak and maple trees, the shaggy undergrowth of the Honeysuckle, even down to the small specks of white that could have been Bloodroot or Great White Trillium. He wasn’t sure, and he sure as hell wasn’t stopping the car in the middle of nowhere to find out.

Although, it was tempting. He really wanted to confirm what they were.

Shiro decided he would give the road until the crest of the next hill before he said, ‘screw it’ and backed up to the main road to call Hunk for the directions again. He was pretty sure he had followed them perfectly, but it was still possible he could have been wrong. But as he came over the hill in front of him, he was glad he had given himself the buffer before he gave up.

At the top of the hill, the tree line opened up onto a large, cleared plot of land. Tall, reaching foliage of the forest surrounded the space, secluding it from the outside world. The road became wider once he passed the tree line, both sides of the road dotted every few feet with a small solar-powered light. Camouflaged on the side of some rather demure looking boulders, that served to help people in finding their way to the house in the dark. He glanced in the rear-view mirror and noticed that there were small black casings inlaid in the trees just along the road that seemed to serve the same purpose.

_How did I miss that? I'm getting rusty._

As Shiro pulled up to the house, _mansion,_ the driveway widened out and filled a football field sized plot in front of the house. He wasn’t sure where to go since the makeshift parking lot was completely bare, save for the lines of dogwood trees surrounding the perimeter. Their thin branches reaching up to the heavens like tiny fingers, hoping to touch the sky.

He parked at the far edge of the lot, trying to be close to the house but not too close as to impede other people that might be coming later. He grabbed the small handled, brown paper bag and tucked it under his arm as he approached the front door. Surveying the lay of what he could see, he noticed only one driveway onto the property.

_They need more escape routes._

The front door, which was split into two panels, easily stood 15 feet tall, and looked to be carved from pure Black Walnut wood. Wrought iron filigree flowed in curls and lines across the front of the panels and a large brass knocker sat in the middle of each door panel, begging to be touched, used. Yet at the same time, it condemned those who dared to even think of touching such an ornate object. A smaller cutout could be seen in the middle of the right sided panel, signaling if one wanted to enter the house, a smaller door could also be used.

Shiro half expected to see a long silk cord hanging from the border near the top of the door, like the one someone would summon a butler at an old English estate. So, he was pleasantly surprised to see a box off to the right with a single button, a screen, and a speaker. Shuffling the bag to his other hand, he reached out and announced his presence.

When no response came through the speaker, he tried once more. This time holding the button and stating a clear ‘hello’ into the speaker. Still, nothing. Shiro felt his stomach hit his feet, maybe he did have the wrong house after all. Maybe nobody was answering him because he was actually at the wrong place and the people inside were getting ready to call the cops.

Just as Shiro was slowly backing up to his car, he heard splashing and loud, deep laughter coming from somewhere behind the small fortress. He fidgeted and looked between his car and where the noise was coming from.

_Okay, a quick peek and if it’s not them, I’ll hightail it out of here._

He crept slowly around the edge of the building, his feet falling as silently as they could on the white crushed gravel of the walkway. His training coming back to his in a flash as he rounded the first corner and continued along the side of the building. The trees and shrubs barely registering as he passed them, switching over to the small patch of boarder grass between the walkway and the landscape to muffle the sound of his footsteps. The laughter and splashing echoed in his ears and banged inside his skull, getting louder and more cacophonous with each step closer he took.

As he approached the fence of evergreens that surrounded a small staircase, his hand instinctively went to his hip. His palm itching to feel the cool, comforting presence of tactical steel. However, after groping around his pockets and belt loops and finding no such object, he closed his eyes and had to try and bring himself back to the present.

_Breathe in…2,3. And out… 2,3._

There was grass beneath his feet, not swampy marshland. The air was cool and refreshing, not stifling hot and muggy. He had on a pair of dark jeans and a crisp, light blue button down rolled up to his elbows, not his mossy green, shaggy ghillie suit.

He wasn’t there anymore. He was here. Home was here. Everyone and everything that was important to him, was here. He wasn’t specialist Shirogane anymore. At least not actively.

He was just checking to see if he was where he was supposed to be. Shiro opened his eyes and exhaled a deep breath before gently pushing aside some of the branches of foliage that abutted the house.

His brain clicked completely over as he saw Lance’s face emerge from the surface of the water, rivulets gushing down from the crown of his head as it headed back to the safety of the water below. The water splashed and rippled around his chest and neck as he dove under the water and burst forth after a few seconds again. Almost as if he had swum down to the bottom and pushed off with all his might. His eyes focused on the way Lance’s hair slicked back off his face, trails of water trickling down the long expanse of his throat before merging once again with the water below.

_Okay creeper, get the lead out._

As he straightened his back, he ran a quick hand through his hair to make sure it was pleasantly ruffled and stepped around the hedgerow.

“Hey, Lance.” He called out as he stepped out onto the sandstone covered patio of the backyard oasis.

He watched as realization his Lance’s face and it lit up bright enough to radiate its own warmth. “Shiro, you made it!” Lance swam efficiently towards the shallow end and Shiro slowly headed in the same general direction. As he emerged from the water and jogged towards Shiro, his breath hitched slightly as his feet stalled out.

Lance was even more beautiful than his mind could have imagined. The lines of his body were long and lean, not overly muscular but the barest shadows of muscles could be seen in the way he undulated his body as he jogged. As Lance slowed in front of him, breathless and flushed from the slight exertion, Shiro’s eyes were drawn to the way his light blue trunks sat low on his hips. The bones making sharp ridges that his fingers itched to grab and hold onto. The way his chest rose and fall with the heft of his breathing, how small droplets of water clung to his eyelashes.

“I’m really glad you were able to make it.” He uttered as he gently pushed the wet mop of hair on his head back out of his face. The muscles in his upper arms strained as he stretched back, excess water trickling down his neck and chest.

_Brain. Focus. Use words._

“Uh, yeah. Me too.” They both chuckled sheepishly. “Oh here,” he exclaimed as he thrust the small bag forward, “happy birthday.”

Lance glanced down at the small outstretched bag and took it gingerly. “Birthday’s aren’t as big a deal in my family, but I felt like getting you something anyway. I hope you like it.” Lance gazed down at the small, unassuming bag. A small shock of white tissue paper stood out of the top, begging to be pulled out and reveal what it was hiding.

“Well! Hello there, Vitamin D.” Shiro was startled out of his reverie as a tall man sidled up behind Lance and draped an arm across his shoulders.

“I’m sorry?” Shiro questioned as he didn’t miss the possessive posturing the man showed off.

“Nothing, he’s just being a bitch. Shiro, this is Lotor. Lotor Shiro.” Shiro put his right hand out to shake Lotor’s hand. Yeah maybe it was petty to make him disentangle himself from Lance in order to shake his hand back, but he’d dwell on that later.

“It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for letting me come to the party today.”

“Not at all, I can always use more gorgeous works of art in my home for me to ogle at.” Shiro felt Lotor swipe his thumb against the back of his hand is a lazy circle. He wasn’t fazed though, the look in Lotor’s gaze was teasing rather than lustful.

“Well, I appreciate the compliment.” He retracted his hand and glanced back at Lance and gestured for his to go ahead and open his present. Lance ripped out the tissue paper to reveal an unassuming blue box with a blue planet outlined with rings on the outside. “I was at the store recently and I saw this box on the shelf and it reminded me of you. Yeah soap might be a weird gift, but it was blue, a bit mysterious, and it reminded me of the ocean.” _Just like your eyes._

Lance popped the top of the box to get a better feel for the soap. He usually didn’t deviate from his normal skin care routine since his skin had the tendency to react to the smallest things. But he could at least put it on his windowsill and smell it every now and then and be reminded of the kind gesture.

“Hang on a minute, what planet is this?” Lotor questioned from behind Lance as he thumbed the lip of the box upwards, both men pausing momentarily. Lotor reached forward and tilted the box so they could both look inside.

Before Shiro could take his next breath, Lotor was on the floor gasping for breath, his hands wrapped tightly around his sides.

“Is-is he okay?” Shiro questioned worriedly, as he took a step back.

“YES!” Lance shouted, his voice squeaking slightly at the change in volume and tone. “He’s fine. Everything is fine.” Lance reassured as he quickly tried to stuff the box back into the bag while simultaneously trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. The gesture tweaked Shiro that not everything was as it should be. From the way Lance tried to hide the bag behind his hands, to the way a slight blush dusted the tops of his cheeks and neck.

“Did… did I miss something?” Shiro asked apprehensively.

“Give…him…the…box!” Lotor gasped out between peels of laughter. Shiro tried to reach for the bag Lance held in front of him, but he quickly pulled it away and hid it behind himself. Shiro blinked quickly and pulled his hand back before he made contact with the waistband of Lance’s trunks.

“No, really. There’s nothing wrong. Thank you Shiro, I’ll be sure to use it all the time.” This earned another peel of laughter from Lotor as he rolled around on the floor, as Lance nudged at the lumpy form with his foot.

“Lance, I fee like I made a mistake. Show me the box.” Shiro demanded, his tone gentle but firm. He wasn’t going to beg or plead with him, he simply held out his hand. A silent gesture for Lance to comply and to brook no refusal. He was the adult here and even if he made a mistake, he could own up to it and apologize.

Slowly, Lance hung his head and held out the bag for Shiro to take. Shiro pulled out the box and turned it in his hands. A small blue planet, surrounded by rings was plastered on the front. _Just like I saw it in the store._ He gently flipped the top cover up to be met with small font printed on the inside.

"Keep Uranus Clean."

_Wait, what?_   Shiro upturned the box into his hand and the pieces clicked into place as a small, flesh colored bar of soap, carved into the shape of a human back side plopped into his hands.

“Oh.. my god.” Shiro could only stare at the small ass in his hand in utter shock and horror. He couldn’t raise his head to look up at Lance. How could he have missed this. He had at least been decent at science in school, he should have recognized the planet on the outside of the box. Why hadn’t he actually opened the box to look at it instead of just smelling the outside of the box to get the idea of what it smelled like?

He had so completely, and royally fucked this up. He slowly shuffled the soap back into the box, closed the lid and placed it back in the bag.

“So, this is probably the most embarrassing moment of my life,” He mumbled as he continued to look at his feet. “I’m just gonna return this tomorrow. Please pretend like this never happened.” That was it. He had just ruined any chance he was ever going to have with Lance. 

“Never gonna happen big man.” Lotor cackled, finally up off the floor and hanging off Lance like a Christmas ornament. “This has just become the best day of my life. You have to stay for dinner.” Lotor lunged forward and wrapped Shiro up and a hug before dragging him towards the house. Shiro couldn’t do anything other than be pulled along by the man, his ears burning from embarrassment.

Before they breached the doors of the house, Lotor turned around and grabbed the bag before Shiro could react and handed it to Lance. “The circumstances might be _hysterical_ , but he was thinking of you in some odd, misguided way. You should still keep it.” Lotor sauntered through the doors into the kitchen ahead of the other two, leaving them alone in silence.

“He’s right. You did go through the trouble to get me something even though we haven’t known each other for very long. So, thank you.” Shiro risked a look at Lance and was pleasantly surprised that even though the tips of his ears and cheeks were pink, his smile seemed genuine.

“No, problem.” As they chuckled together, the atmosphere lightened and gave way to an easy comfortability. It warmed Shiro’s heart that even though they had just shared a monumentally embarrassing moment, they should easily slip into being at ease with each other.

“Oh hey, so Lotor said we could have our shootout today. I think we should wait for everyone to get here and do it as kinda a main event thing once it gets a bit darker. He’s got good lighting on the range so that shouldn’t be a problem. What do you think?” Lance glanced back as he started to walk into the house and Shiro’s heart skipped a beat as the sun glistened off the few beads of pool water that still clung to his body.

“Sure _sharpshooter,_ sounds good.” He really needed to stop using that nickname if he didn’t want to combust into a ball of soft feelies each time Lance giggled at the name.

***

_Bang!_

Lance was tied up on number of targets acquired as Shiro. Sure, Lance wasn’t as tight in his precision, but his accuracy could almost match Shiro’s. This was their final round. It was completely tied up and at this point it was going to end in a tie if something didn’t change.

Lance, mentally ran through what he had to do for his last shot. He had to make this one his best one. Maybe if he concentrated hard and kept his cool, Shiro might choke on the last shot and then he would win.

_Not fucking likely._

Shiro had been nothing but calm, cool, and collected during the entirety of their shootout. Even among the cacophony that his friends were making behind them as they cheered each of the guys on.

Lance had been worried that took much interaction with his friends would be overwhelming for Shiro, especially Matt. But thankfully, Matt had been behaving like a gentleman. Well, a gentleman with a libido the size of a bull elephant. He was taking every chance he could to sidle up to Shiro, pet his arms, lean against him, talk to him, that Lance could barely get a word in edgewise. It had been a while since Lance had spent a lot of time with Matt, that he had forgotten that his libido could almost rival Lotor’s.

Thankfully though, he was finally getting some quality time with Shiro, as everyone else sat behind the bulletproof shield just behind the firing stage.

“So, your family still lives in back in your hometown. What do they do?” Lance asked as he removed his ear muffs, a habit they had both easily fallen into as they reset between each round with a new target at a different length down the range.

“Yeah, parents are still together after almost 40 years and still live in the first house they bought together. Dad’s an electrician and mom stayed at home and raised my sister and I.” Shiro reached his arms above his head until the joints cracked and relaxed. As nice as it was to watch him flex and stretch out his muscles, it gave Lance a case of the heebie-jeebies when people cracked their joints. Bodies were supposed to work and allow you to do things, not sound like your fingers were being ripped off at the joints. “Sorry, my shoulders are pretty messed up and unless I pop them, they get a bit stiff.”

“N-no, its okay!” _Damn, how did he notice?_ Lance had been so sure to try and keep his reaction as minimal as possible. “I just have never like the sound of joints popping. It sounds like someone is breaking their bones. On purpose.” An involuntary shudder lit off in his chest and shook down into his thighs.

“I hear ya. I’ll try and keep it to minimum then.” Lance felt like such a tool. Shiro couldn’t help the fact that his shoulders weren't perfect, and here he was, acting like a child because the sound bothered him.

“No really, its okay. Not to worry. If you need to bend your body into odd positions to feel better, you go ahead and do that.” Shiro's arm stopped mid-stretch across his chest and he quickly averted his eyes downrange.

“Yeah… I’ll do that.” Lance quirked an eyebrow as he lined up the targets for their last round. _Wait, why is he..._ As realization hit Lance like a sack by Bruce Smith, his fingers stuttered on the clasp and the target fluttered to the ground.

Lance could only stare at the target as it laid face up, center bulls’ eye unmarred, on the ground. Why was he always sticking his foot in his mouth? “Uh, that’s not what I meant. You said your shoulders got stiff so whatever you need to do for pain relief is completely fine. Not to say that different positions and whatnot wouldn’t help you relax too, but in other ways. Wait no, I’m just, uh, I’m gonna stop now.” His cheeks heated as he hung his head in his hands.

 “Hey, get the lead out and finish this!” Pidge bellowed from behind the protective barrier, their voice easily penetrating the strained silence.   

“Will do, Pidge.” Shiro waved behind him before turning towards Lance and leaning in close. “No worries Lance. And anyway, I guess we’re even on the embarrassed front now.” Shiro’s breath fluttered across his ear and he tilted his head involuntarily away from the sensation. Shiro chuckled as he pulled back from him and picked up his ear muffs once again before stretching them slightly between his hands.

“Hey guys, since it is the final round, how about we make this a bit more interesting.” Lance turned to face the group behind him and caught the barest glint off Pidge’s glasses as they pushed them up further on their head. “Since it has been absolutely _fascinating_ to watch you to stay in a tie game for the past 30 minutes,” _sarcasm noted, you ass_ , “How about the winner gets a prize from someone in the group as well. Any takers?” 

“I volunteer to give Shiro a kiss if he wins!” Matt practically scrambled out of his seat and plastered himself to the protective barrier, fluttering his fingers against the plastic before blowing a kiss in their general direction.

“I will volunteer the same for Lance.” Lotor nonchalantly raised his hand and gave Lance a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Fabulous, no pressure now. Whoever wins not only gets the free décor or food once a week, but they also get a kiss from out two lovely maidens for winning the tournament.” As Matt and Lotor scoffed in Pidge’s direction, Lance couldn’t keep himself from giggling behind his hand. Not that he was opposed to a kiss from Lotor, it was actually something the man was very, _very_ good at from his short interaction with it. He just wished he could be kissing the guy next to him instead.

“Sure, sounds good. I look forward to it, Matt.” Shiro chuckled, _oh, ouch._ “Well, shall we finish this, I’m looking forward to my free meals.” Shiro said, just loud enough for Lance to hear.

“Well, I hope you like homemade food. Because you’ll be making your own for the next year as I enjoy the free flowers in my shop.” Lance snarked back, flicking the switch to send the target downrange to the further distance they could reach.

Just before he snapped on his ear muffs, he heard the all too familiar fight song coming from Shiro’s phone as it sat between them on the bench. _Allura again?_ Shiro quickly snatched it up before it could ring for too long.

“Sorry, I have to take this. I’ll be right back.” He apologized as he shuffled to the side of the range to talk in private. So, Allura was someone Shiro talked to regularly. And was important enough to him that Shiro would drop everything in an instant and talk to them. He didn't even have a chance, did he?

He mentally smacked himself and, to give Shiro all the time he needed, he jogged over to the group. “So, Hunk, I heard you made a cake. What kind is it?”

“Oh, well,” he seemed slightly flustered at the attention, his hands wringing together as the toes of his shoes fidgeted over one another. “Yeah, I looked up some recipes for different cakes to make that had Cuban influence and considering that you run a café, I decided to make a something with chocolate, coffee, and dulce de leche. Here,’ Hunk jumped up from his seat and jogged to a small table up on the patio and brought the cake over.

Lance’s mouth watered at the sight of it. The cake was taller than his head and the outside was covered in a pale, golden colored, airy frosting. The bottom edge was dotted with little stars of the same frosting, each dotted with what looked like a chocolate dot. The top was adorned with larger swirls of frosting and then a generous drizzle of thick, caramel colored syrup, along with a chopped version of the dots along the bottom.

“The inside is a dark chocolate chiffon cake base with espresso powder mixed in, with layers in between of a dulce de leche mousse. The outside has more of the dulce de leche whipped into a buttercream and then it has some chocolate covered espresso beans along the bottom and the top. I hope you like it.”

“Hunk, this is so sweet. Thank you!” He wanted nothing more than to reach out and swim in the delicacy. He could almost taste the sweet, buzz he would get as it coated his tongue from just a single bite. He was just about to ask for a piece while Shiro was on the phone, when he came back around the edge of the barrier. However, this time he didn’t look as pleased as he had been a few minutes before.

“Hey guys, I’m so sorry but” _oh no, not again._ “something really urgent has come up and I have to leave.” Shiro slid the phone into the back pocket of his pants and Lance could have sworn he saw his shoulders slump slightly.

“Ah, come on. Can’t you at least finish the match? I have the kiss already to go!” Matt pleaded against the wall in front of him.

“Sorry, I really can’t. It’s gonna take me about 30 minutes to get back and I need to head out now to make decent time.” Shiro was already heading for the door, when Lance finally got his brain back online.

“Well here, let me walk you out at least. Guys, you wanna get the cake and stuff ready.” Murmurs of ascent greeted him as he guided Shiro towards the shortcut to where his car was parked. “So, is it anything serious? Can I help?”

“No, no it’s okay. Just something that needs taken care of right now.”

“Okay.” Lance couldn’t utter much more after that. He had asked, but Shiro had chosen to close the door on his questions by not giving him a real answer. A way to shut down further questions, without being outright rude about it. And why would he talk to Lance anyway? They had known each other all of a week, and he expected Shiro to completely open up to him?

As they rounded the corner onto the gravel parking lot, Shiro turned to Lance and hung his head. “I’m really sorry to bail on your birthday Lance. It was so nice of you to invite me and I end up leaving before it is done. Before you’ve even had your cake! I’m just, I’m really sorry.”

Lance’s body relaxed and his face softened as he reached out to cup the side of Shiro’s cheek, gently bringing it up to face him. “Shiro’s it’s fine,” he chuckled lightly, “life happens and there’s nothing we can do to change it. We just gotta take the good with the bad. And yeah, you having to leave is bad, but the rest of the day was very good.” As Lance stood there, Shiro’s strong jaw in his palm, he became aware of how warm his cheek was. How tall he was against his own frame. How the darkness of his eyes seemed to swallow up all the light that tried to illuminate them. He could have sworn he could feel the barest sensation of stubble as Shiro turned his chin gently into Lance's palm.

He wanted this man, like no one he had wanted before. He craved his touch, his arm, his kiss. He wanted Shiro to break him apart, to show his inner most weakness, only to have him gently pick up the pieces and keep him together in the safety of his arms for all time. Maybe, maybe he would let him hug him. Just once. He wanted to know what it was like to press his face against that strong chest and to be enveloped in the refuge those arms offered.

Before Lance could act on it though, Shiro coughed and straightened his back. “Well, still I feel bad. I’ll have to make it up to you sometime.” As Shiro pulled away from Lance’s grip, he felt to sting of his rejection.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you sometime this week yeah?” He pushed his bravado as high as it could go, so as not to show the hurt on his face.

“Absolutely.” As Shiro turned the key in the car door, he paused. “Oh yeah,” Before Lance could react, Shiro was wrapping him up in a gentle hug, his arms circling around Lance’s neck as he buried his face into the crook of his neck. Lance’s arms hung at his sides as his brain tried to process the series of events that were unfolding. _He’s touching me! Oh my god! Holy shit!_

“I just wanted to say thank you, again, for inviting me. I haven’t really had much time the past couple of months to myself with the move and setting up the shop. So, I really needed a night of fun, so thank you for that.”

Lance felt his hands raise of their own volition and wrapped behind Shiro’s shoulders. He could barely get his arms completely around his broad shoulders, but as he did, it brought their chests flush together and Lance could feel every breath Shiro took as if it was his own. He tilted his head to the side, towards the gentle heart beat that pulsed in Shiro’s neck and pressed his nose into the skin. The sharp, metallic aroma of gunpowder was softened by the floral tones that clung to him. “Glad I could help.”

He felt Shiro’s arms loosen as he pulled away and got into his car. “Have a good night Lance, and Happy Birthday again.” Lance gave him a small wave as he watched the taillights leave the parking lot and crest the far hill towards the main road.  _Best birthday present ever!_ He thought as he hugged his arms around himself and moved to enter the house.

Maybe he did have a chance after all.

***

“Ugh, I really wanted to kiss him!” Matt lamented as the remaining four party goers made it into the house.

“God Matt, quit acting like such a ho.” Pidge countered, cleaning the dinner plates off the table so they could position the cake and Lance’s candles on it for when he came back from walking Shiro to his car.

“I’m just trying to get a little. It’s been soooo long!” Matt complained as he draped himself across Pidge’s shoulders.

“It’s been a month, how is that long?”

“I’m a sexual being. I need sex to live!” he cried, Pidge stumbled as they tried to continue to carry him. “You haven’t had sex before, so you don’t know the torture of not having any!”

“It’s not like I don’t want to.” Pidge glanced quickly to the side before they shuffled him off their shoulders and went back to cleaning.

Matt stood for a moment and looked over to where Pidge had glanced. The only thing left in the room, since Lotor was off locking the guns back up, was the Shiro’s friend hunk as he arranged the cake on the dining room table. It took him all of a full second to figure it out. “Oh! My! God!”

“Shut up!” Pidge quickly lunged at him and covered him mouth with their hands. “Not another word Matt.” They waited until they were certain that Matt wouldn’t say anything once the mask was removed.

“You like Hunk?!” he whispered. Pidge’s hand smacked against their forehead and groaned. “Oh dude, I can totally see it! I mean he’s not necessarily my type, but I can see why you would be into him. You’ve always seemed to have a thing for guys bigger than you.” He slung his arm around Pidge’s shoulders and pulled them in close. “And not to worry, big brother is here to help you in your quest to get some of that _obviously_ thick dick.”

“Hey, who said I wanted to get fucked? Maybe I wanna fuck him.” Pidge pouted.

“Well, in that case, you’ll need some stuff. Dildos, strap ons, bullets, etc, cause trust me, I've been through your room like fifty times and not a single toy in sight. I’ll take you to this great place I go to a lot. You’ll definitely want some prostate toys because your fingers are about the size of a cocktail wiener.” Pidge ducked out from under his arm and throttled him in the side, eliciting full body laughter from the him.

“You’re a bitch, you know that.”

“Yeah, but you love this bitch. And I love you no matter what.” He said in all seriousness.

“Yeah, thanks Matt.” They came over and gave him a tight squeeze before turning back to the main room.

But before he let them get too far, he whispered, “Now go get him. Cause your end game includes you and that dick.” He danced away quickly before he could take another jab to the ribs.

He skittered over to the front door, completely out of sight of the rest of the party and glanced a look out one of the side windows as his laughter died down. He didn’t have to look far to see Lance and Shiro breech the tree line. Shiro was so pretty, it wasn’t fair. He loved Lance, he was like his very own brother, but he would run right over him with a monster truck if he even stood a smidgen of a chance with a catch like Shiro.

He gasped as he saw Shiro turn from his car and embrace Lance.

“Ugh, hold _me_ like that, daddy!” He whispered.

“You’re being pathetic, everyone can tell how wanton you’re being. Trying to claim Shiro like a bitch in heat.” _Well, hello to you too, mother fucker._ Matt and Lotor had never really seen eye to eye. Yes, he was Lance’s best friend, so he had seen him a few times before, but they had never truly spent much quality time together. _Mostly because he is an absolute ass._ And it wasn’t like he wasn’t the only one here trying to get someone into bed.

“Well, I’m so glad I asked for you're opinion on the matter, your highness.” Matt said as he bowed low, flourishing one arm behind himself. As he straightened his back, he winced visibly as a shock of pain sped down his spine. _Shit, I was doing good too._ Pidge's punch to the side earlier and him dancing around away from them a few minutes ago hadn't been the best series of events.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lotor asked, disgust just barely tinting his words.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Severe back pain radiating from my neck to my ass. Years of jumping out planes will do that to you.” Matt closed his eyes and leaned back gently against the wall to slowly straighten out his spine. He’s knees shook with the effort to stand upright as his mind refused to focus on anything besides the painful contraction of his back. Thankfully, this hadn’t been a full out attack, but this probably meant he was going to be out tomorrow. He’d have to talk to Lance when he got back in the house.

Matt started as a wet, cold object pressed against his face. “Here.” Lotor stood over him, pressing a glass into his face. “I don’t like people passing out at my home. It means I have to take care of them for longer.”

“Well, aren’t you just the poster child for the Florence Nightingale Foundation.” Matt gritted out. He looked down at the glass and realized that the liquid inside wasn’t clear, it was slightly murky and oily looking. “What is this?”

“It’s a new format of cannabidiol my company is trying out. We are looking to see if there is a powdered substitute we can formulate to be an additive for liquids such as water to help relieve chronic pain. We’re trying to craft a compound that has similar absorption rates to the inhaled version of the compound and without the negative side effects of smoking. Yet combining it with the lasting effects of the ingested version but without the aftertaste.” Matt swirled the concoction suspiciously, he wouldn’t put it past the man to try and poison him and then blame it on an excuse like “new formulation of a drug”.

“I’m not trying to poison you, if that’s what you’re thinking. What would I have to gain from that?” Lotor mused. Matt still had some reservations but decided that he would take anything right now to help dull the pain in his back. He tipped the small glass back and downed the mix in one swallow.

It wasn’t necessarily bad, but it wasn’t pleasant either. The liquid had a slight oily mouthfeel, and his taste buds picked up on the barest notes of fresh grass and nutty earth. Matt licked the inside of his teeth to rid them of the oily residue he felt there.

As Matt handed the glass back, he tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes and tried to breathe. _This will pass. It is what it is. This will not last forever._ He had repeated the familiar mantra over and over in his head so many times before, willing his mind and body to relax. However, he realized he only got through a repetition or two before he felt his body respond.

Matt felt a slackening in his joints as what he assumed were the effects of the drug kicked into gear. The muscles in his back relaxed and unfurled. His spine, no longer held in the death grip of his body, loosened and became more fluid. His breathing and heart rate slowed and returned to normal.

_Whoa._ It usually took him about 15 minutes, sometimes hours, of repeating the mantra his therapist had taught him before his body decided that it wasn’t going to die and relaxed. He glanced at his watch and realized it hadn’t even taken five minutes for him to be almost completely recovered.

“Well? Thoughts?” He started slightly at the realization that he had completely forgotten that Lotor was still there. Now he was going to have to humble himself and thank the son of a bitch. _Shit._ That didn’t mean, however, he still couldn’t have a little bit of fun while he did it.

“Tastes funny, and my mouth is all oily now.” He accentuated the remark by pulling his cheeks in and sucking on his teeth loudly. He glimpsed Lotor twitch at the sound and felt a small burst of petty pride rise in his chest.

“Damnit, I thought we were on the right track.” Lotor pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Back to square one. Again.” Matt felt a stab of guilt at the confession. 

“Okay, so maybe it wasn’t that bad. It was just a slight aftertaste, but I felt better really fast. Much faster than if I had just done it on my own. So,” he pushed himself off the wall and extended his hand, “thanks.”

Lotor looked up from behind his hand skeptically, unsure of whether or not Matt was telling him the truth this time or not. After a minute though, Matt felt a warm palm meet his own and Matt squeezed the hand firmly to express the sincerity of his gratitude.

“Well, like I said. I don’t like having to take care of people for longer than I have to.” Lotor was the first to drop the connection and walked over to where Matt had been staring out the window. The man’s shoulder length, alabaster hair glimmered in the moonlight as it shone in through the window. A few stray wisps floated across his face as he leaned against the glass. Matt had to give it to the man, he had better hair than most women he had seen. And if he wasn't such an arrogant twatwaffle, he would actually be stunningly gorgeous.

“And in the future, could you try to keep your inner whore at bay. It’s incredibly uncomfortable for everyone when you make yourself so obvious.”

Matt felt his spine stiffen at the accusation, but as he watched where the man was looking, he smirked and nonchalantly crossed his arms across his chest.

“No worries, I’m only being as obvious as you wish you could be… L’Oreal.” Matt turned on his heel and as Lance came through the front door and Lotor choked on his own tongue behind him.


End file.
